


Welcome Home Zuzu

by SnakeStaff



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Azula & Zuko (Avatar) Have a Good Relationship, Azula (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Azula (Avatar) is A Good Sibling, Canonical Child Abuse, F/M, Firelord Iroh (Avatar), Gen, He really deserves it, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Zuko (Avatar), Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, Protective Azula (Avatar), She's still kind of crazy, Sibling Love, Sort Of, Zuko (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Zuko (Avatar) is a Good Brother, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, azula kills ozai
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:29:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 34,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28650576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnakeStaff/pseuds/SnakeStaff
Summary: Princess Azula is eleven years old when she watches her only brother get burned and banished. She decides that she isn't going to take it. The world will never be the same.
Relationships: Azula & Iroh (Avatar), Azula & Ozai (Avatar), Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Mai/Zuko (Avatar), Ozai & Zuko (Avatar), Ty Lee & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 359
Collections: AtLA <50k fics to read





	1. Chapter 1

The warm afternoon sun was shining down on a magnificent villa garden nestled snugly near the heart of the Fire Nation’s capital. Princess Ursa reclined against a tree not far from her favorite pond, an eight-month-old baby cradled gently in her arms and a toddler sitting not so far away. With Prince Ozai occupied in another of Fire Lord Azulon’s endless war meetings, it was just the three of them for the moment.

The precocious little girl bundled up her arms was, for the moment, seemingly contented. Azula had always had enormous energy and a vibrant spark in her little golden eyes. She had never, from the very day she was born, hesitated to make her feelings known to all and sundry. The little princess had kept her mother awake for many a sleepless night, simply to have someone familiar around her. So, when the little one wasn’t throwing a fit, Ursa could feel quite sure that her daughter really was feeling relaxed.

Her brother was a different matter. Zuko was still at that age where he regarded his little sister as nothing but an intruder and a thief of his mother’s previously undivided attention. He wasn’t quite old enough to understand why the baby needed more of Ursa’s time, or why the maids couldn’t simply do it. The princess caught her young son stealing envious glances at Azula when he thought that she wasn’t looking and frowned just a little. It was understandable considering he had only just turned three, of course, but she still had hopes that she could wean her firstborn of that habit sooner rather than later.

A faint burbled yawn drew the princess’ eyes back towards the infant in her arms, and Ursa smiled to see Azula’s small, chubby hands outstretched in the vague approximation of a stretch. She rocked her back and forth a few times as Azula yawned again, precious golden eyes blinking a few times before staring almost expectantly up at her mother.

“Hello little one,” Ursa said, offering her daughter the tip of one finger, which was promptly grasped by all ten of the baby’s own. “Did you sleep well?”

“Ulp,” chirped Azula, something approaching concentration on her face as she toyed with her mother’s digit.

“You’ve always had a strong voice,” the older princess smiled. “Is today the day?”

Her daughter said nothing this time, merely following Ursa’s finger with her usual infantile intensity as it slowly retreated from her grasp. She pointed to herself.

“Azula, I’m your mama. Can you say Mama?”

“Mmmph…” the little baby replied almost at once, tongue halfway out of her mouth.

“I’ll give you credit for trying,” Ursa gave a faux sigh, tickling her daughter’s tiny stomach, eliciting a high-pitched giggle. “One more,” she turned the little one around to face her still sour-looking son. “This is your brother, Zuko. Can you say Zuko?”

“Zuuuhhh…”

“Zu-ko,” said the princess patiently. “Zu-ko.”

“Zuuuuhhhh…” Azula’s tiny eyebrows made an equally tiny frown. “Zuuzuu!” she squeaked excitedly, then giggled some more.

“I think that’s good enough to count,” her mother smiled again, cradling her gently. “Now Zuko, your little sister’s given you her first word. What do we say?”

“Hmph,” the three-year-old was still pouting, arms crossed.

“Zuko,” said Ursa in a slightly stronger tone. “What do we say when someone gives us something nice?”

Her young son looked at her, down at the baby, and back up at his mother again. Ursa kept her face firm, and eventually he caved in.

“Thank…” Zuko still sounded huffy. “Thank you.”

“Very good,” his mother smiled at him too.

* * *

For a girl having only just reached two years of age, the world is a strange, mysterious, exciting, and enthralling place. And Azula was ever the precocious child. She had taken her first steps before her tenth month of life, was walking reliably on her own by the time of the fourteenth. And oh, how she put that to good use, going wherever she pleased in their family villa, always finding something interesting around each new bend. From there, she would pick it up, play with it, climb on it, wear it on her head, or whatever seemed like the most fun at the time to her childish mind.

Unfortunately for the toddler, the world around her was more than just funny-looking flowers, shiny toys, silk robes, mother’s milk, and her favorite spicy jam. It also included unseen holes in the garden’s ground.

“Moooom!” Zuzu’s voice was almost painfully loud, shot through with strange inflections that reminded her a bit of Mom’s. “Azula fell! I think she’s hurt!”

There was something said in return, but Azula wasn’t listening. Her ankle had gotten caught in the stupid hole, and when she tripped it turned at a funny angle. Now it hurt really, really badly, throbbing and red and already swelling. Tears were streaming down the little girl’s flushed cheeks, and soft sobs escaped her tiny pink lips.

“I…” Zuzu looked around for something, then back at his sister. “I d-don’t think it’s that bad…” his eyes uneasily met her watery ones, and even a toddler could tell something wasn’t quite right with him.

Azula just whimpered, lower lip quivering, then continued to cry. This wasn’t supposed to happen. The garden was supposed to be a safe place, where she had fun hiding in the bushes and plucking the flowers and picking the funny fuzzy, shelled things that lived in the pond up and shaking them until they made silly noises. She wasn’t supposed to get hurt anywhere, but especially not _here_.

Zuzu looked down at her with water visible in his own eyes, then looked around one more time. When he turned back to her again, her big brother reached down gently and wrapped Azula in both of his arms. He pulled her almost tenderly into his chest, absorbing the little girl’s tears with the red and black silk of his tunic.

“Shhhh… You’ll be okay,” he said as he gently rubbed the upper part of her back. “I promise, it’s going to be okay.” 

Azula sniffed a little. She didn’t know what all of those words meant. But what she did know was that her Zuzu’s arms were warm, and that they made her feel all warm inside. The pain in her ankle suddenly seemed a lot less painful.

* * *

“Zuzu?” Azula’s voice was soft, almost uncharacteristically so, as she opened the door a crack. “Are you there?”

“What do you _want_ , Azula?” came a bitter voice from the side of the bed.

She pushed the door just open enough to take a hesitant step inside. Her brother was looking angrily over at her, nursing a prominent red and purple bruise across his left cheek. That was where their father had struck him, when he grew tired of his son failing to perform the same firebending kata that his little sister had managed on her first attempt for the fifteenth time, and even more tired of his excuses.

For three months, Prince Ozai declared, his private tutelage would be reserved for Azula alone. Her brother would have a more conventional instructor, and if the young prince ever wanted to be back out there with his father and sister, he had better prove that he was more than a waste of their time. When Zuko had protested that that was unfair, he had been laid out across the training ground in a single backhanded blow for his trouble.

Mother in turn was laying into Father about that even now. Their personal chambers were all angry shouts and words Azula knew six-year-olds weren’t supposed to be hearing. She doubted that it would help. Father hadn’t seemed sorry about it at all. What could a mere nonbender hope to do against such a powerful firebender, and the Fire Lord’s son besides?

“I wanted to give you these,” the princess held out a small wooden box, walking slowly across the bedroom.

When Zuzu didn’t say anything to stop her, Azula placed the box on his bed next to him, then quickly took a few steps backwards. Her brother eyed her warily for a moment, before lifting the lid. Inside were a dozen or so cookies filled with rare and expensive chocolate, so dark a brown that they were almost black, peppered with red and yellow candies.

“Lava cookies?”

“They’re your favorite.”

“They’re _your_ favorite too,” he looked suspiciously at her. “Did you fill these with salt or something?’

“What? No,” she shook her head emphatically. “I stole them from the kitchens, just a few minutes ago.”

Royal children weren’t supposed to be having too many sweets. Mother said it would leave them with hurt stomachs and bad teeth. Father said it would give them a gut like Uncle was getting, and that was unacceptable for little princelings. They rarely agreed on anything, but in denying their offspring many of their favorite treats, the two were united.

“Then why?”

“Because… because I wanted to say sorry,” Azula’s head dipped just a little. “I’m sorry I called you pathetic out there today. I didn’t mean it.”

“Hmph, yeah right,” Zuko snorted, glaring at her.

The princess flinched and took another step back. Zuzu’s eyes looked angry and more than a little hurt. They weren’t supposed to be that way. The grimace on his face didn’t look right to her, more like an alien expression that had somehow gotten mixed up and wound up on her brother’s face than one of his own. He wasn’t supposed to look at her like that.

Azula was a clever girl. She had spotted the calculating way that Father looked at her at even her tender age. It was the same sort of gaze he used for objects. Even when he praised her, such as he had done earlier today, his voice was chilly and left her feeling cold. His rare smiles never reached his eyes. Normally, when Zuko looked at her, there was something more in it. There was a brightness to his eyes, genuineness to his laughter, a life to his smile that made Azula feel strangely warm and mushy inside. One set of golden eyes looked at her and saw a commodity, the other saw something to be cherished. She knew which gaze that she preferred.

But now her brother’s eyes were hurt, just as they had been on the training grounds. After their father’s punishment had been announced, Azula had watched Zuko stumble again at a different firebending form, failing several times in a row to generate enough heat for a proper ball of fire the way she could so easily. Only a brief puff of yellow-orange and a few sparks had resulted. Ozai had called him a disappointment, asking how it was that the little girl two years his junior could manage it so quickly while his firstborn son could not. Zuzu had been a dumdum again and made the mistake of talking back. The princess had seen the anger and menace in her father’s eyes and moved quickly to do the only thing she could think of.

The biting words had rolled off her tongue like water, accompanied by a smirk just like the ones she’d seen Father do in the war meetings. Ozai’s hard expression had vanished on the spot, his attention refocused on her, an echo of her smile on the edge of his face. Her brother was more or less ignored for the remaining hour they’d spent all together. But Azula couldn’t forget the pain and shame she’d seen on Zuzu’s face when she said those words, nor how quiet he had been for the rest of their training session. She did not like seeing that. She did not like seeing that at all.

The princess could have pointed out that Father had already struck Zuko once that session and had looked tense to her eyes, as if preparing to do so again. She could have pointed out that by insulting him when she did, their father’s eyes wandered back to her instead of giving the prince a second dark splotch on his face. She could have argued that the sting of mere words was so much less than that of a well-built adult man’s backhanded swing. She could even have pointed out that Ozai had said worse before, and probably would again.

She could have said any of that, but she didn’t. Instead, she merely bowed her head sadly, spun on her heels, and made promptly for the exit. He was right to be angry with her, and if he didn’t want to see her here right now then that was his decision to make.

“…Wait,” the sound of Zuzu’s voice called out from behind her.

Azula froze in her tracks halfway towards the door, slowly daring to turn her head around. Her brother was still sitting on the edge of his bed, open box of treats in his lap. There was a prolonged moment of silence.

“You may be mean, but… you’re still my sister. I…” he glanced down, then sighed. “I guess I forgive you.”

The princess just stood there for a moment, feeling something strange inside her chest and not knowing quite what to do about it. The two siblings stared awkwardly at one another, neither saying anything for a little while.

“So…” Zuko eventually coughed, eying the box. “There’s a lot of lava cookies in here. I don’t think I can eat them all by myself.” He looked back up at her. “Do you want some?”

Azula brushed an errant strand of hair from her cheek with a faint smile on her face.

* * *

“Wake up!” Azula practically burst into Zuko’s bedchamber one fateful night several years later. “Wake up, dumdum!”

“Wha… huh?” Zuko rubbed his eyes, sitting almost halfway up.

“Wake up!” the princess had rushed straight to his bed and was leaning heavily over the side of it. “You need to get up right now!” her eyes bored into his, and the sheer intensity of her gaze made him flinch.

“What…” he blinked a few times, clearing away the last vestiges of sleep. “What is it?”

“Dad’s going to _kill_ you!” Azula hissed at her brother, barely able to contain her anxiety.

“What?!” Zuko suddenly sat bolt upright, clutching the covers around his legs. “What are you-”

“I heard everything,” she cut him off without hesitation. “Grandfather exploded. He said that Dad’s punishment should fit his crime. He said that Dad needed to know the pain of losing a firstborn son by _sacrificing his own_!”

“Y-You’re lying,” her brother’s eyes were widening, trembling hands pulling the sheets up to his chest. “You… have to be…”

“Zuzu,” Azula crawled right on top of his massive bed, seizing one of his chilly hands with one of her own. “I wouldn’t lie. Not about this.” She forced his chin up with one hand. “Look into my eyes and tell me that I’m lying.”

The prince visibly blanched but said nothing. The princess could feel cold sweat starting to form on his palm. It was tempting to allow herself to quiver and shake as much as he was, but she couldn’t, even in the face of such horror. She had to be strong.

“We have to get you out of here,” she placed her free hand on her brother’s shoulder. “You have to hide! Who knows when Dad might show up?!”

Azula was a girl of a mere nine years of age, but the gears in her head turned fast indeed. There were plenty of hidden spaces within the palace that had long ago fallen into disuse, secret passages and concealed stairways only the two adventurous younglings had set foot onto within memory. She knew that Ozai knew, or at least suspected, the locations of some, but certainly not all of them. With her help, Zuko could vanish from Father’s sights until Uncle returned from the front. Surely, it would not be much longer? She was already mentally composing the letter that she would write him, begging the general to hurry home.

For all her dislike for the man, Iroh was still the Dragon of the West and the Fire Lord’s beloved firstborn. If anyone could calm Grandfather’s murderous outrage it would be him. For all his many flaws, Uncle valued the life of his nephew enough that Azula was sure that he would not wish to see Zuko sacrificed to Ozai’s ambition and Azulon’s pride. Especially so soon after the loss of his own son. He was too softhearted to let such an atrocity stand, and in that fact lay Zuzu’s single best chance for survival.

“N-No,” he pulled away from her, and she scowled in worried frustration.

For all Azula’s affection for Zuko, he could be such an irritating dumdum sometimes. Didn’t he realize that she was attempting to save his life?

“You have to be lying. D-Dad would never do that to me.”

“Your father would never do what to you?” came a familiar voice from the open door behind them. “What is going on here?”

Azula’s scowl only deepened at the sight of her mother. “I’m trying to do what _you_ can’t!”

“What can’t I do?” Ursa swept through the room, seizing Azula in a surprisingly firm grip even when she tried to squirm away. “Young lady, it’s time we had a talk.” The elder princess pulled her daughter from her son’s bed, and immediately began walking. “And you’re going to tell me _everything_.”

The young princess didn’t want to go, didn’t want to leave her only sibling alone and vulnerable for even a minute, but her calculating side was already working out a way to seize the moment. The weak, nonbending Princess Ursa stood no chance of changing the Fire Lord’s mind, of course, but it might be possible for her to stall Ozai for a time. Every minute could be crucial, but simply coming clean about what she had seen in Grandfather’s throne room seemed like it would waste less time than trying to burn her way free and having to explain to Zuzu why she had attacked his beloved mother.

So, the young prodigy told her mother the whole story of Father’s reckless ambition, Grandfather’s incandescent fury, and the heartless punishment to be dealt out to an innocent child. She left nothing out, and by the end of it Ursa had gone paler than her daughter could ever recall seeing her. But there was something else on the elder princess’ face as well, a glint of something hard in her narrowing eyes. She thanked Azula in a soft voice that was usually reserved for Zuko and kissed her daughter gently on the cheek before disappearing down a nearby corridor.

Azula rushed back to Zuzu’s room and had to spend the next several minutes practically wrestling her shocked, terrified, idiot of a brother from his bed. The remainder of the night passed in a frantic blur, between leading Zuko to the most obscure hidden room she knew of, comforting the dumdum as best she could, scrawling out a hasty letter to Uncle with the brush wavering in her hand, practically forcing the scroll into the baffled hands of the servant who tended the messenger hawks, and running off to locate her father.

The princess forced herself to remain awake for as long as she could that horrible night, in spite of the weariness of her muscles, the heaviness of her eyelids, and the ache in her heart. She followed Ozai as closely as she dared, which wasn’t all that close. He never even neared Zuzu’s chosen hiding spot, not that she really knew what she would do if he did. Azula eventually collapsed of sheer exhaustion onto a carpet sometime before sunrise and was awoken by a servant to a world changed forever.

Grandfather was dead, somehow passed away in his sleep overnight despite his excellent health the evening before. Uncle’s birthright had been suddenly revoked in the last hours of Azulon’s life. Father was to be crowned the new Fire Lord. And Mother? Mother was simply gone, without a trace or word of explanation. But Zuko was safe, and that was the important thing. She led her still-nervous brother back to his room as soon as she had confirmed that Grandfather’s horrific order had died with him.

Azula didn’t know exactly what had happened. All she knew was that she had never felt as much respect for her mother as she did after that night.

* * *

And still, after all of that, life went on. Days became weeks became months became years, and still the pattern held. During the day, Azula was the fierce firebending prodigy, the apple of her father’s eye, drilled relentlessly in every aspect of courtly life and excelling in all of them. When Zuzu stumbled over the same lessons before Father’s eyes, as he so often did, she would deliver a succinct cutting remark or a cruel sneer. It pained her to see the hurt in his eyes, but she had learned to ignore that. Her words drew Ozai’s eyes away from him, content to see his daughter punish his son rather than do it himself.

During the night, she would sneak over to his room and beg his forgiveness for making him feel bad about himself, which her kindhearted dumdum of a brother would inevitably give, if not always immediately. Then, the two of them would simply be children together. Creeping through the countless hidden passageways sequestered throughout the palace, stealing sweets from the kitchens, climbing on the rooftops, telling stories, having pretend adventures, taking turns playing hide and seek all throughout the darkened palace, sometimes even cuddling next to him in bed for a while. She would teach him when she could, demonstrating where he went wrong in his firebending forms or filling in the gaps in his knowledge of history or simply correcting his posture. He didn’t always like it, so she didn’t press, and even when he consented to learn he was just so much slower than his sister.

Azula had realized long ago that Zuzu was just not like her. His heart was soft and warm and kind, filled with pride and an eagerness to prove himself, yes, but so woefully inadequate to the task. He _felt_ too easily to be the hard, cold prince that Ozai wanted. His talents and intellect and memory were well above average, but they were nothing next to her own. She outstripped him in every way that their father cared about. He would want her to see her brother as an inferior to be used and scorned. But to Azula Zuzu’s warmth, his bright-eyed smile, was the most precious treasure in all the world. A treasure that she had to guard with all the fierceness of a dragon of old, for there was no one else left to do so.

The princess had to be perfect. Since Zuko was so soft inside, Azula had to be strong for the both of them. As long as she was the perfect prodigy, the ideal daughter, then the Fire Lord’s eyes would be kept firmly fixed on her and blind to his son. Zuko thought he wanted their father’s attention, but he didn’t, not really. Ozai’s gaze was withering and harsh, zeroing in on any perceived weakness and lashing out at it ruthlessly. It was hard even for her to stand in the Fire Lord’s presence sometimes, she knew that Zuzu would crumble if subjected to it for too long. The mental image of her brother shattered and broken beneath the weight of Father’s relentless demands was simply unbearable.

That was why Azula drilled so tirelessly, studied and sparred and spied with the endurance of a woman twice her age. Father thought that she meant it as competition, as a means of demonstrating her superiority and drive. She was fairly certain Zuko did as well, though he never accused her of such. But in truth, it was always first and foremost an expression of a young girl’s wish not to lose the single brightest spot in her otherwise loveless existence. The task was demanding, exhausting, all-consuming, but the young prodigy never faltered. Day after day, week after week, month after month, she presented her father with everything that he could wish for and more.

In the end, even that wasn’t enough.

* * *

Azula stood on the sidelines as the sadistic spectacle played out. Her poor, stupid, reckless, softhearted, honorable oaf of a brother was in the arena. For the crime of caring for the lives of some green soldiers he had never met and likely never would, for that same kind heart that had let him forgive and embrace her so many times, he was thrown into an Agni Kai with the most powerful firebender alive. To call the cruel farce anything but sacralized public torture was to insult the intelligence of all present.

She felt sick to her stomach as she watched Zuko abase himself before Ozai, felt the soft trickle of sweat rolling down the back of her neck as the Fire Lord loomed over his son. The princess forced herself not to waver, to keep watching as her brother apologized profusely and made protestations of his loyalty with tears on his cheeks. She knew, without a doubt in her mind, that both were as useless as attempting to fight would have been. The conclusion was as inevitable as it was heart-wrenching.

“You _will_ learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher.”

By Agni, the _screaming_.

To conceal the burning ache gnawing at the inside of her chest was a simple matter. She had learned never to openly cry a long time ago. It was a weakness that she simply could not afford. But not to scream herself, not to rush the arena with blue fire in her hands, not to shield Zuzu or die trying? To be the sensible one, the rational thinker, the patient strategist, the good child, the _despicable coward_? That was the truest agony. The hardest thing that she had ever done. But even more was demanded of her.

Azula had a mask of malice painted over her face. It was almost a reflex for her at this point. A cruel smile, a cutting jibe, a minor bruise or burn, all of these kept Father’s eyes off of his wayward son and firmly fixed on his prized daughter, who seemed so much like him. It was a tactic she had used too many times to count in her young life, defusing Ozai’s wrath with a surge of pride in her. She had never liked to see the hurt and shame on her brother’s face, but she was so much less terrible than Father would be.

Only now that technique had failed and failed so miserably that it defied comprehension. Still the princess held to it, by dint of sheer habit if nothing else. What else could she do? Father’s anger had to be appeased – but Father’s anger was already manifest. What could she possibly say or do to spare Zuko _now_?

Ozai’s head drifted just slightly to the right. Azula’s gaze met his for a split second, and she felt a sharp intake of breath.

He was _proud_. Azula was an expert at reading the Fire Lord’s mood, there were none better. And she could tell, just from the glint in Ozai’s golden eyes, the slight incline of his head, and the tightness at the very corner of his mouth, exactly what he was thinking. His daughter was witnessing her own kindhearted brother getting publicly tortured, and she felt nothing but savage satisfaction at his weakness being punished. The Fire Lord had raised her well indeed. He was as pleased with his daughter’s wicked glee as he was disgusted by his son’s pleas for mercy. This one moment was the culmination of everything that he had wanted for so long, for both of them. In a split second, a dam long teetering inside of the princess finally burst in a surging torrent of emotion.

Something dark and terrible, majestic and twisted and cruel, welled up in the depths of Azula’s soul. It was like a serpent coiling tightly around her gut, peering out through her eyes at the world she suddenly felt nothing but contempt for. All these generals and admirals, all these nobles and sages, cowards and lickspittles every one of them. How could they stand there and do nothing as their ruler mutilated their noble prince for a trifle? And as it saw the Fire Lord looming above her, looking proudly down while his own unloved son lay broken and smoking at his feet, the wrathful serpent bared its fangs.

Father wanted a monster? He would get one.

* * *

Zuko was to be banished. Facial burning and public humiliation weren’t enough for the boy who had spoken out of turn, he had to have his home and honor taken from him as well. The provision that he could return home upon capturing the Avatar was little more than one last cruel joke at his expense. No one had seen the Avatar for nearly a hundred years. Even Fire Lords Sozin and Azulon themselves had led the search for years and came up empty. With nothing but a single obsolete ship, a skeleton crew, and a fat old uncle to aid him, her brother didn’t even have a ghost of a chance.

Azula never visited Zuko during his short time in the infirmary. She was not there on the docks the day he sailed over the horizon. Her father doubtless thought that an extension of her disdain. Truthfully, it was because she didn’t trust herself not to just collapse into a wretched morass of grief and self-loathing at the sight of the suffering she had failed to prevent. To do so was a tempting prospect anyway, especially in those first few days after the Agni Kai, but the princess didn’t have such a luxury. She had to be strong. Her brother needed her to be stronger now than she had ever been, and so she would be.

Father made her Crown Princess before the week of Zuko’s departure was out, finally formalizing what had been evident to all serious observers for a long time. His daughter was his true heir, his son a forgotten placeholder. Azula had dutifully smiled when he gave her that news, as if she were happy to be made into a thief of Zuko’s birthright.

Her days after the Agni Kai were filled with the same rigorous training as before. If anything, it intensified, as though to remind her that though the competition was gone, the imperative remained. Firebending, history, politics, court life, military strategy, the princess was expected to excel in all of it. And excel she did – she was ever the gifted student.

Azula’s nights, on the other hand, were left cold and joyless. She ate alone now, the sweetest of delicacies mere ash in her mouth. There was no one left to talk with, to sneak around with, to laugh and cry with, to simply be a child with anymore. Father did not take many meals with his daughter to begin with, and when he did they were formal affairs devoid of human warmth. The frigid words of praise from the same monstrous lips that had pronounced her brother’s exile brought nothing but bile to her throat, but Azula swallowed her feelings and showed Ozai the picture he wanted to see. He had taught her well, after all.

She tried to visit Zuko’s desolate room, once, just in some irrational hope of reliving a trace of what had come before. The princess barely made it past the door before her eyes began to water, didn’t quite manage to choke back a whimpering sob, and fled the vicinity in disgrace before any servants or guards could catch her. It was then that she was sure that it could wait no longer. That very night she first left the palace.

The art of stealth was one of the many that Azula excelled in. Shedding her fine clothes and regalia, cloaking herself in a dark outfit with a cloth covering most of her face, she could make her way beyond the palace gates almost without effort. The guards were so slow and clumsy next to her, relying on firebending to light up their surroundings instead of allowing their eyes to attune to the darkness. She never even had a close call with them.

Locating the kind of people that she sought in the city beyond was more difficult, but Azula was patient, Azula was clever, and most of all Azula was very, very rich. Night after night, week after week, the peerless prodigy wandered the darkest streets, visited the shadiest taverns, met with seedy traders down near the capital’s waterfront. She had to quietly kill a few men who thought to take advantage of a young, wealthy girl alone beneath the dark skies along the way of course, but that didn’t particularly bother her. Eventually the word got around, and the wrong sort of people stopped annoying her. Even so, it took her just over a month of nighttime excursions and the hideous deaths of no less than four would-be con-artists before she finally obtained a small crystal vial of what she had been looking for. She made the weedy, nervous-looking man who sold it test a handful of drops of the stuff on a komodo rhino calf in front of her before delivering payment. The creature’s piteous expiration proved this one to be the genuine article.

They called it Nomads’ Revenge. It was colorless, odorless, almost tasteless, fast-acting, and perhaps most importantly of all reputed to be incredibly painful. By the time symptoms set in, it was almost always too late. Made from the bloom of a vanishingly rare white flower that only grew in the mountaintop vicinities of the old Air Temples, it was highly illegal, difficult to source, and hideously expensive. But that was alright, Azula had never lacked for money. Father would always give abundantly to his prodigy if she asked. He thought it was to be used for mere creature comforts and, well, this would certainly make her more comfortable.

The Fire Lord had a food taster, of course, an older man of delicate constitution, certain to show any symptoms of poisoning in short order. He also had the kitchen servants carefully vetted for any signs of disloyalty, and their families were well known to the Royal Procession. But if the servants were loyal, they were also distractible. The princess had taken the time over the preceding weeks to learn their habits. Every dish destined for Father’s table would be sampled by the old man and set aside for a time while they waited for any signs of abnormality. When invariably nothing happened, it would be duly carved up and made aesthetically pleasing before being taken to him. It was no real trouble at all to arrange a commotion just outside the kitchens, no more than it was to creep inside and slip a few drops of the colorless liquid into the sake once it had already been sampled.

The food taster and the kitchen staff were unlikely to survive this. Even in the best possible case, their careers would be forfeit. The princess considered such a merciful outcome improbable. But that was a sacrifice Azula was willing to make.

The princess crept along one of the countless secret ways woven throughout the palace, knowing right where to find the one closest to the Fire Lord’s private dining chambers. She couldn’t see anything from her hidden vantage, but she could hear the servants bringing the dishes well enough. She heard her father dismiss them and settle into his solitary dinner, just as he always did.

The next few minutes were among the most tense of the young girl’s life. She listened with bated breath, scarcely daring to move her eyes from the utter darkness of the wall ahead for fear of missing something. There were so many scenarios that played through Azula’s head of failure, of Father forgoing his drink, of not having used enough, of him somehow discovering her plot and killing her for her treason, leaving Zuko alone with the old monster. If Azula had had anything less than perfect control and poise drilled into her since the earliest days of her life, she might have been biting her nails.

Azula heard nothing but the faint sounds of a lone man consuming his meal for several minutes. It was impossible to tell when, or even if, Ozai had taken a sip of anything at all. Everything was out of her control. And then, without preamble, there came the abrupt sound of a wet, hacking cough. And then there was another. And another. A sudden, sharp gasp for air. More coughing. A hoarse attempt to say something unintelligible, cut off a mere second into it by more of the increasingly wretched hacking. Azula heard knees, or perhaps hands, smacking into the elegantly tiled floor. Allowing herself the slight indulgence of a faint sigh of relief, the princess pressed her ear fully to the wall and took it all in.

The poison induced severe internal hemorrhaging within minutes of ingestion, especially in the trachea and the lungs. It was funny, really. For all his grand words about strength, for all his cunning mind, for all his much vaunted firebending power, when all was said and done Ozai’s flesh proved as mortal as any other man’s. He could not coherently call out for aid as his lungs filled with fluid, could not even lash out in vengeance against the assassin he could not see. All he could do, in the end, was to try to stand, evidently clinging to something that soon fell to the ground with a great crash. The sound of shattering ceramic echoed through the chamber and the hallway beyond. But no matter. The guards knew not to disturb the Fire Lord during his repast. He’d told them so himself, after all.

Azula listened closely through the wall as her father thrashed feebly on the ground, heard the gurgled rasps as he slowly drowned in his own blood.

This time, her smile was genuine.

It would be the better part of two days before anyone worked up the courage to enter the private chambers and find the Fire Lord’s body. Crown Princess Azula, naturally to be found duly ensconced in her daily sparring chambers, was as shocked and horrified as anyone.

* * *

Legally speaking, Azula had no standing to appear on the Regency Council. She was a girl of a mere eleven years of age, five years short of legal majority. According to law and custom, the court’s highest officials would find a suitable regent to rule in her stead until she came of age, while she finished her education. She did not have a formal say in the process. What she did have was a pair of her tallest and most skilled Imperial Firebenders standing mere paces directly behind her, and another half-dozen scattered throughout the room. Even more importantly, no one really wanted to find out what would happen if they told Ozai’s prodigious and famously vicious daughter no. So, while she had no legal right to be at that low table at all, she knelt on a cushion at the head of it.

Around the table before her knelt twenty of the most important men in the capital. From Grand Chamberlain Enmei of the Royal Household to High Sage Guan of the Fire Sages, from pampered nobles to bureaucrats and more besides. Their task was simple on the surface of it, to choose a temporary ruler to hold her throne for her for a little while. The complicating factor was that the exalted council was a gaggle of sycophants.

In the wake of his hasty and unorthodox ascension to the throne two years before, Fire Lord Ozai had found it necessary to purge the highest offices in the land of those he deemed a potential threat to his new position – meaning of course anyone with an excess of talent or ambition, or overmuch fondness for the former heir. Half of Azulon’s council had been replaced within a year, three in four members of it by the next. The lucky ones had just been dismissed from their posts. The unlucky had given her father pretext for an Agni Kai.

What was left was a pack of social climbers, those willing to debase their honor and swallow suspicious tales of hastily scribed wills disinheriting a firstborn son wholesale out of opportunism or fear or blind loyalty. And while that was fine on its own, knowledge of what they all were did breed a healthy degree of paranoia amongst the councilors. None of them fully trusted the others or the candidates that were put forth for regency. All of them feared a new purge under whoever came to power. And so, a session that was supposed to last two hours had gone on well into the night, and still there was no consensus. Just the way the princess liked it.

“My uncle,” Azula interrupted, raising her voice just as another lord was proposed and rejected, adding a small amount of impatience to her inflection. “My uncle should be my regent.”

Silence greeted her sudden proclamation, men several times her age pausing from their endless roundabout argument to stare at Ozai’s designated heir.

“General Iroh is Fire Lord Azulon’s firstborn son and has been trained to rule from an early age,” she pointed out to them. “He’s fought in the war personally and has over two decades of command experience. He’s proven his loyalty is to the throne even when his birthright was suddenly revoked, and never shown any ambition to reclaim it. Further, he is old and has neither wife nor heir and thus no motive to undermine me. There’s no one in the Fire Nation more suitable for this task.”

“Your highness,” Keeper of Lineage Chan, responsible for the most exhaustive records of noble genealogies in the Fire Nation, spoke up a little warily. “He isn’t available. General Iroh departed Fire Nation territory alongside Prince Zuko.” He shook his head. “I know the man. He won’t be willing to return without the former Crown Prince, even to become Regent.”

Azula fought the temptation to roll her eyes. Obviously, even an old dotard like Uncle would realize that by assuming the mantle of temporary ruler he would have the authority to revoke Zuko’s banishment in a heartbeat. The honored archivist simply feared the consequences of his years of loyalty to the man who had so blatantly usurped the proposed regent. Still, it was just the excuse she’d been anticipating. He wanted to link her uncle to the elder brother she supposedly disdained, potentially her biggest political competition in the years ahead, and thereby dissuade her without having to actually challenge her. Did she have a surprise for _him_.

“Then all we need to do is formally rescind Prince Zuko’s banishment,” Azula suppressed the impulse to smile at Chan, whose eyes went wide. “Bring my brother back home, and my uncle will follow.”

The gathered men looked nervously at one another. This was one step beyond Iroh. Fire Lord Ozai’s shadow was long indeed, even as a corpse awaiting cremation. There had been more banishments and executions of courtiers under his two years in power than in Azulon’s last ten. For the court to go against his will was unthinkable, and old habits die hard.

“For a mere council, not even a Regent, to override the wishes of a Fire Lord…” High Sage Guan’s voice was so soft that he was almost mumbling. “It goes against all tradition, and-”

“Are you seriously suggesting,” Azula interrupted with just a hint of contempt in her voice, “that we should endanger the stability of the throne and the Fire Nation because you lack the courage to revoke a dead man’s edict?”

“Your highness, I…” the old man hesitated, glancing at the two bodyguards standing behind her.

“Every one of us here knows that the punishment inflicted for my brother’s offense was grotesquely out of proportion with _tradition_.” The princess’ eyes swept across the room, several grown men refusing to meet her gaze. “The loss of face involved in forfeiting an Agni Kai would have been enough of a penalty for the level of disrespect shown by itself. That the Fire Lord chose to add a permanent injury and banishment is hardly in accordance with our ancient ways. Are we then to consider this decree so utterly inviolate that five years of inadequate regency is a worthy price to pay to uphold it?”

There were a few mutterings, a shake of the head here and there, but no one’s voice rose. Azula felt her lips curling back. For these men, the supposed great and good of the Fire Nation, to be so cowardly in the face of a dead man was shameful. Being afraid of her was understandable, even commendable, but of a carcass? Father’s purges had tamed them too well, and now without someone to give commands none of them wanted the responsibility of defying him, even posthumously.

“Do you require it to be a direct order?” Azula slammed her hands down on the table. “Very well, a direct order it is! In the name of your Crown Princess and future Fire Lord, Prince Zuko’s banishment is hereby overturned. All privileges of honor and rank are to be returned to him. He and General Iroh are bidden to return to Caldera City without delay. You,” she pointed to a man in a scribe’s robe at complete random, “send your fastest hawks. I want my uncle and brother back here before the week is out.”

None of that, technically, carried any legal weight. Fortunately, with councilors like these, that turned out not to matter so much.

* * *

In the end, it took just shy of three weeks. Zuko’s ship might have been small in comparison to the mainstays of the fleet, but it was fast. Messenger hawks were well-trained and bred for their intelligence, but they were still just birds combing the open ocean. And, Azula would be the first to admit, she would not blame her brother at all if he were a little hesitant to just accept that the nightmare really was over and head straight for home. Not after everything that had been done to him.

But all the same, the once-banished prince and her old uncle were eventually spotted in Fire Nation waters. Ships of the Home Guard sent word via their own hawks well in advance, giving the princess time to prepare. By the time the light craft steamed past the Great Gates of Azulon and into the capitol’s harbor, Azula was waiting for them at the docks. At her back were ten firebenders of the Royal Procession whose loyalty and discretion she could rely on, and absolutely no one else. Even the palanquin bearers had been temporarily dismissed, all so that she could have a moment to herself. 

Azula could feel her heartbeat accelerate as the old warship pulled into port, looking almost comically small against a dock designed to accommodate royal sloops and _Empire-class_ battleships. She had to fight to keep her composure, brushing back an errant strand of hair caught in the wind as she did so. Then, with agonizing slowness, the boarding ramp descended in a hiss of steam and piston springs. The princess unconsciously took a step forward, breaking her perfect alignment with her guards without even noticing. A moment later, she had to restrain the impulse to bite her lip.

“Honored Uncle,” Azula gave a bow just low enough to be polite, keeping her disdain for the fat old coward from her voice. “It is good to see you well.”

“And you as well, Princess Azula,” Iroh returned her bow a little more deeply, then made his way down towards the welcoming party. “Truthfully, I did not expect to be returning home so soon.” He eyed her soldiers, then her. “But duty sometimes calls to us in unexpected ways.”

“That it most certainly does,” the princess nodded absently.

When he reached the base of the ramp, the former Dragon of the West gave his niece a meaningful sidelong glance. Azula ignored it. Her eyes were already firmly fixed on the second figure to appear on the ship’s deck.

Zuko was hesitating. Her brother stood frozen at the very peak of the ramp, eyes drifting out over those here to greet him to the harbor to the dormant volcano beyond. Azula could read him as well as ever. She saw the doubt on his face, the reluctance to believe that it was real, to believe that he even _deserved_ to return home. It was as if some part of him believed that it was somehow all one last cruel joke at his expense, played by a spiteful universe or an uncaring father.

More than that, Azula saw the confusion, the anger, the fear, the shame, even the grief writ large across her open book of a brother. She knew in that moment that the hideous burn scar now and forever marring poor Zuzu’s handsome features was not the only one he carried. It might not even be the worst. She winced to see the slow, painful steps he took down towards the docks, feeling her heart swelling with grief at the sure knowledge that she could have prevented all of this if only she had had the courage to act sooner. It was an unashamedly sentimental reaction. Father would not approve.

She shook her head slightly. Father was dead. She didn’t need to care what he thought, now or ever again.

Without warning, Azula broke ranks completely and simply ran right past her uncle, straight up the metal ramp. She met Zuko almost halfway up it and immediately threw her arms around his neck, pressing her head into his armored shoulder. She felt her brother momentarily flinch. Then she felt his own arms wrapping around her torso, pulling her in even tighter. Zuko held her close, one hand gently rubbing her upper back. And, for just one precious moment, Azula was no longer the prodigious warrior, the schemer, the ruthless princess, the hidden murderer. She was simply an eleven-year-old girl, warm and safe in the arms of the big brother that she loved more than anything else in the world.

Azula looked right up into her poor scarred brother’s golden eyes, and finally allowed her long-suppressed tears to roll down her cheeks.

“Welcome home, Zuzu.”


	2. Chapter 2

Iroh, Zuko, and Azula visited the Fire Lord’s tomb that very afternoon. Uncle had suggested that they might wish to take some time to rest and recover first, and for once Azula had agreed with him, but Zuzu had insisted on doing it immediately.

And so it was that the three surviving members of the Royal Family arrived at the Fire Sages’ High Temple by palanquin with the sun still high overhead. They were welcomed by what was left of the Fire Nation’s spiritual authority, with the former general leading his niece and nephew to the ornate floor mosaic concealing the entrance to the Dragonbone Catacombs. Almost as soon as Iroh had opened the way with firebending, though, Zuko had barged ahead. Azula quickly followed after him. Uncle sighed, shook his head slightly, then brought up the rear.

“You don’t have to do this right now, you know,” the princess told her brother as they descended the spiral staircase in single file. “You’ve only just gotten back.”

“I missed his funeral,” Zuko said, shamefacedly. “I shouldn’t wait to visit his ashes.”

“Not by any will or fault of your own, Prince Zuko,” Iroh reminded him gently. “I’m sure your father would not mind you-”

“Don’t tell me what he wouldn’t mind!” the prince snapped back.

“There’s no need to be touchy,” Azula told him. “You’re among family here.”

 _Not that our family is particularly spectacular,_ she admitted mentally. _But still._

“I just…” he clenched his teeth, then sighed, “want to do something right for once.”

The trio of royals reached the bottom of the staircase, revealing a long series of hallways lit by intermittent braziers, stretching as far as the eye could see into a black abyss. Dragon skulls lined the walls on either side between statues of Fire Lords of days gone by. Azula spotted Iroh looking sadly at something out of the corner of her eye, then immediately diverted her gaze back to Zuko. The young prince had already stormed straight down the main hallway, though he did not have to go far.

Azula caught up with her brother right in front of the newest addition to this morbid collection. He stood before a steel door bearing an image of Father, as grim-faced as he had been in life and clutching the symbol of the Fire Nation directly over his heart. Zuko was staring up at the face of the man who had scarred and banished him, as hesitant now as he’d been brash seconds earlier.

“I’ll say it again,” Azula said. “You don’t have to do this. No one will think any less of you for taking your time to come down here.”

“ _He_ would,” her brother muttered quietly.

A less controlled princess might have winced. That had the unfortunate advantage of being true.

“I don’t want to fail him,” her brother was shaking. “Not again.”

“Prince Zuko, please, do not stress yourself too greatly,” Iroh put a gentle hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “There is only so much pain that a heart can endure at one time.”

“I _have_ to. He’s my father.”

“If you must,” Azula crossed her arms. “Then you may as well do it.”

She watched as her Zuzu took a deep breath, raised one slightly quivering hand… then let it fall back to his side. He glanced at her out of his scarred eye.

“Before I go in,” he sniffed. “I want to know more. Your letter said that he… passed alone, and that he wasn’t found for some time. What… what happened?”

“You know how Father was. He liked his privacy during his meals. His guards had standing orders not to disturb him, they obeyed,” Azula shook her head. “He’d been decomposing for almost two days by the time anyone found him. I had to arrange for the funeral the next morning and have his body burned before the Fire Lord suffered the indignity of starting to bloat.”

And before anyone had performed anything more than a cursory examination of it, naturally enough. The grieving daughter had raged at the servants’ incompetence in allowing their lord to fester for so long, would not permit her father’s already rotting corpse to endure the further humiliation of being cut open. Simply prettied up as best it could be, then carried in procession and burned. It had been so convenient of Ozai to have taught the royal physicians not to ask too many questions about a Fire Lord’s death.

“How did he…” his voice wavered again, “die?”

“Something he ate, apparently,” Azula suppressed the impulse to smirk. “The kitchen staff have been detained for questioning. We’ll see if anything deliberate turns up.”

“I see. I never thought it would just… end like that,” the prince looked down. “Thanks, Azula.”

“My pleasure,” she said, quite sincerely.

Zuko took a deep breath, placed a hand on the symbol over the heart of Ozai’s statue, and unleashed a controlled burst of fire. Flames burst from the image’s eyes and mouth, and seconds later came the squeal of turning gears. The door split slowly apart, one side taking the whole of Father’s image with it and vanishing into the walls.

The tomb inside was fresh, lacking that properly musty smell one expected from places like this. A cloth portrait of Ozai adorned the back wall, a few of the former Fire Lord’s personal effects were scattered throughout the room. A crimson and gold urn stood atop a plinth located centrally at the back of the crypt, holding all that remained of the man who’d once aspired to dominate the earth. Unlike so many of his ancestors, there was no will or final testament placed here for him. Maybe someday Azula would have to include a scroll with her recollections of the amusing noises he’d made as he perished like a dog. _That_ would be a truly fitting tribute.

Zuzu, regrettably, didn’t share her sentiments. His steps into Ozai’s tomb were, if anything, slower and more painful than they had been coming down off of his ship. The scarred prince didn’t even make it halfway to the urn before his knees buckled, then gave out. The princess winced to see her brother abase himself anew before the old monster that had sired him.

“I’m sorry…” he moaned, voice wavering, body quivering. His head hung low. “I’m sorry I missed your funeral. I’m sorry I spoke out of turn. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the firebender that you wanted. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the prince that you wanted.” Zuko looked up at the portrait of his father, and his sister could see tears streaming from his good eye. “I’m sorry I was such a bad son!”

Behind him, Azula and Iroh shared a look, and for once the princess felt in perfect sympathy with her useless uncle.

“Zuko…” Iroh knelt down beside his nephew, putting one comforting hand on his back. “You were not a bad son.”

“Don’t lie to me, Uncle! I could never be what he wanted me to be!” Zuzu shook his head fiercely, scattering hot tears across the stone floor. “What’s…” he gave a strangled sob, “what’s wrong with me?!”

The old man pulled the weeping young boy into a tight hug, holding him close wordlessly as his sobs echoed throughout the crypts.

Azula’s heart did not bleed easily. Any of her servants could have testified to that. As could any of the men who had attempted to deceive or impede her on her quest to bring her brother home, if any of them had still been alive. But this? This did the trick.

Poor Zuzu. He was such a loyal son, even to the heartless father that had mutilated him over a trifle. To take the happy, kindhearted, honorable boy that could so easily love a little sister that had mocked, sneered at, and even burned him for years, and reduce him to _this_ … The princess glared venomously at the portrait of Father, as cold and indifferent in death as he had been in life, and felt only hate for her sire. Zuzu deserved a better father than the wretch that cruel fate had dealt to him. She only regretted that she couldn’t give that to him.

Or could she?

“He regretted your banishment, you know,” Azula told her sobbing brother softly, kneeling down beside him. “While you were gone, he began to realize what he’d lost.”

“W-What?” Zuko partially detached himself from the old general, just enough to turn around to look back at his sister with his flush, tear-stained face.

Behind him, Uncle was giving her a puzzled look, but she ignored it.

“The night before he died, Father and I ate together. He told me how surprised that he was by your endurance, your loyalty. Even after losing everything, you were still so devoted to the Fire Nation and the Fire Lord that you threw yourself into an impossible task without hesitation. He expected that you would have given up and slunk away. Not to do so required a kind of strength that he’d never realized that you possessed,” the princess put a gentle hand on her brother’s shoulder. “He was proud of you, before the end.”

“R-Really?” Zuko sniffed, wiped his cheek with his sleeve, and looked down. “He… was?”

“Yes,” Azula lied with a soft smile on her face.

“I…”

“So, get up from there,” she placed her other hand beneath his chin, gently lifting his face until their eyes met. “Rise again from all of this. Become the prince you were always meant to be. You can do it. I know that you can.”

“Yes,” Uncle said quietly. “You can.”

Azula stood up and offered Zuzu a hand. Her poor brother reached out one trembling hand of his own and took it. She helped him to his feet, while he dried more tears from his face. Iroh softly rose to his own feet, looking somber.

“W-Why do you have so much faith in me?” the prince looked from his sister to his uncle and back again. “What makes you think-”

Azula decided that it was time to play a trump card. “What was it that Mother said? You’re someone that keeps fighting even though it’s hard,” she reassured her poor dumdum. “It’s who you _are_ , Zuzu.”

“I…” he looked back and forth at both his relatives with an almost baffled expression for a few seconds. “Thank you Azula, Uncle,” Zuko bowed to them both with a faint smile, sniffed, and wiped his good eye with his sleeve one more time. “I won’t let you down, I promise.”

“I know you won’t,” the older general returned his smile, placing a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “You never have.”

“And I promise,” Zuko turned and vowed to the portrait of Ozai, right fist clenched over his chest. “I won’t disappoint you again!”

Behind the young prince, Uncle glanced at her with a slight frown on his face. Azula frowned right back.

* * *

It was nearing sunset that first day of Zuzu’s return. Azula sat on a palace balcony, watching Agni’s light slowly dip low in the sky, enjoying the warm evening breeze with a contented smile on her face. Her emotionally and physically drained brother had been sent off to his old chambers by Uncle to unpack, and more likely than not collapsed into his oversized bed the moment that he had reached them. She could afford to allow him that _one_ indulgence, in light of all that he had been through.

She couldn’t be too soft on him, though. The visit to the catacombs had revealed just how thorough a hold the shadow of the Agni Kai still had on Zuzu’s mind. She didn’t blame her poor dumdum for being affected by having half his face seared off, not at all, but if he was to fully recover then that lingering damage would have to go. Azula was confident that she could manage it, though. She was a prodigy, after all. She succeeded in everything that she did. She had killed the _real_ Ozai to protect her brother and set them both free, how hard could it be to slay a mere echo?

The princess was sitting there on her low cushion, musing fondly over the memories of her father’s death, when the door behind her opened with a soft creek. She glanced wordlessly behind her, though her head did not move an inch.

“Hello, Uncle,” Azula kept her tone level, polite, and formal. “Have you finished settling in already?”

“It wasn’t so difficult, really,” the old general had a faint smile on his lips, a tea set in a basket in one hand, and a board folded under the other arm. “May I come in?”

“By all means,” she gestured at the table beside her.

Iroh made his way to another silk cushion on the table’s opposite side and knelt down on it. The princess watched the old man set the board to one side and unpack his brass tea set, which she couldn’t help but notice included both a teapot and two cups. Uncle’s admittedly above average firebending capabilities brought the water to a boil in short order, and he added some further ingredients from a red pouch with that same slight smile.

“Do you care for some, Princess Azula?” he asked, pouring a generous serving of the steaming liquid into one of his cups. “It’s a cinnamon blend. I think you’d like it.”

“Very well,” she accepted the proffered mug politely, then took a sip.

It was quite a warm concoction, blending sweetness and spice into an unusually mixed flavor that wore its Fire Nation influence on its sleeve, but also included a hint of something she felt reasonably certain was imported or picked up during Zuko’s abortive banishment. Admittedly, Azula didn’t know the first thing about preparing food in anything other than in a strict survival capacity, always having had servants to do that, but still. It also happened to be quite good.

“An interesting flavor, to be sure,” she sat the cup down while Uncle took a longer sip of his. “May I ask what brings you out here, Uncle?”

“I was concerned about you,” he replied. “Your brother took the news of your father’s death so hard, I wished to be certain that you were well.”

“Your concern is quite unnecessary, I assure you. My grief played itself out during the weeks of your return journey,” Azula offered a slight smile of her own. “I am quite well. But how about yourself? My father was your brother, after all. Are you coping well?”

“I… manage,” he shook his head, letting his smile fade. “To lose a brother is not an easy thing.”

“No,” the princess quietly nodded. “No, it isn’t.”

Uncle was silent for a little while, sizing her up with his own golden eyes, expression unreadable. Azula kept her own face perfectly neutral, taking the occasional sip of tea while waiting for him to make his next move. She was unsurprised to see it come in the form of unfolding the wooden gameboard onto the table, creating a circular board divided into tiny squares directly between them.

“Do you like to play Pai Sho, Princess Azula?”

“I’ve never had time for childish games.”

 _Not with_ you _, at any rate._

“That does not answer my question.”

“I know how to play.”

Zuzu had taught her, one night when they were in his room together. Of course, Zuzu had learned from Cousin Lu Ten, back before he went off to war. And no prizes for guessing where Lu Ten had learned it from.

Iroh sighed. “Would you _like_ to play?”

Father never asked questions like that.

“Very well. If you’re to be my regent and guardian for the next five years, then we may as well.”

“I’m not trying to force you into anything, niece,” he looked her over. “I just thought that this might appeal to your interests. They play it in the military, you know. It helps to sharpen your strategic thinking.”

“I know that you’re not,” she said as she moved efficiently to set the board, then sat back to wait for him to make the first move. “That’s not the sort of person that you are.”

“Why do you make that sound like a bad thing, Princess Azula?” Iroh gazed over the board, opting for a rather conventional opening gambit. “Do you want me to be that sort of person?”

“What I want isn’t relevant, it’s simply the way things are,” the princess poured herself some more tea, then moved a tile of her own.

“And is that a bad thing, in your mind?” Iroh moved.

“An effective ruler of the world’s greatest nation needs a greater degree of forcefulness.” Azula moved.

“I am too soft for your liking, then.”

“Yes.”

“May I ask what makes you say that?”

“A _real_ general would have stayed and burned Ba Sing Se to the ground,” she pushed a tile gently across the board and cut straight to the heart of the matter. “Left no stone standing atop another.”

Uncle noticeably flinched at that, as she thought he would. There was a long period of moving pieces in silence before he spoke again.

“Had I done as you suggested, would that have brought my son back? Would causing more pain have alleviated my own?”

“It would have shown the Earth Kingdom that the Fire Nation will not lightly suffer the death of its prince.”

“And that would mean more to you than the loss of tens of thousands more sons, on both sides?”

Uncle might have flinched. Azula didn’t.

“Yes.”

Iroh looked across the board at Azula, moving a tile and looking… not angry, as she’d expected. Just disappointed.

“What if one of those sons lost had been Zuko?” he asked her in a soft voice.

The princess’ mind flashed briefly across the ocean, to the walls of the impenetrable city, their base littered with crimson armored corpses. Then to one corpse in particular. Her heart leapt, but she refused to shudder. She could not be so easily rattled.

“An irrelevant hypothetical. He was too young at the time to be serving in the army, and afterwards it’s doubtful Father would have permitted it.”

Not out of concern for her brother, obviously, but simply because he had no wish to be embarrassed by his weak son failing in a command position and a prince with honor intact being made to serve on the front lines was an insult to him by proxy.

Uncle shook his head, as if she had missed the point. She hadn’t, she had just chosen to ignore it. Zuzu was not another faceless peasant soldier, he was hers. There was no comparison to be made between the two.

“You may deem yourself cold-hearted, Princess Azula,” he moved another Pai Sho tile. “But you have long cared greatly for your brother.”

“Yes,” there was no point in denying it, as she would have before Father, and no real reason to do so anyway.

“Then I do not think you are as far removed from my softness as you might like to believe,” Iroh leaned forward a little.

Azula bristled at the notion that she was anything like this weak, fat, lazy, washed-up coward. Her grip on her cup of tea tightened a fraction, but the hand she moved another tile with was still controlled. Poise was important, after all.

“And what makes you so sure of that?”

“I remember that two years ago, a nine-year-old girl forsook all her pride and wrote her old uncle a letter begging him to rush home with trembling hands, on paper stained by tears. All for the love of her brother.” Agni help her, Uncle actually sniffed. “I still have it, you know, tucked away amidst my other effects.”

“You kept a letter full of incriminating evidence out of sentimentality,” Azula frowned at him. “Why am I not surprised to learn that?”

“A sister wishing to save her brother’s life is _incriminating_ now?”

“It is when it points to a possible motive for the, shall we say, conveniently-timed death of Fire Lord Azulon,” she shook her head. “We’re both lucky Father never found out about it.”

“And supposing my own father had not expired in his sleep when he did, do you suppose that your father would never have learned of what you had done? How would I have known that I needed to hurry, or why my nephew was in danger?”

“That was… a risk I was willing to take.” Azula moved one of her tiles.

“You are willing to risk much for your brother’s safety.”

“Too much for my own good,” she smiled a little ruefully, brushing one of her bangs to the side, then looked back at Uncle and resumed her frown.

“Treasure the strong bond that you have with your brother,” Iroh made a move, then looked a little sad. “Believe me, not all siblings get on so well.”

“You may wish to get to the real point of all of this, Uncle.” Azula took a sip of her tea while considering the board in front of her. “Before I grow tired of our game.”

“Concern for the welfare of my niece cannot be my motive to come out here?”

“If it is, it’s only half the equation, and _I_ don’t require your concern,” she answered frostily. “We both know that you haven’t breached the biggest questions. Please, don’t insult my intelligence.”

“…As you wish,” his countenance further faded. “Fire Lord Ozai did not regret Prince Zuko’s banishment,” Iroh said solemnly as he made another move. “Did he?”

“And what would make you say that?”

“I have known my brother since he was an infant in his cradle. He and regret have never mixed.”

 _Then you ought to have known what he was doing to his children._ Azula thought bitterly, draining the remainder of the cup and setting it aside. She folded her hands above her lap, weighed the options, and spoke in a soft tone.

“No,” she admitted. “He didn’t regret it at all.”

“I thought not,” Uncle shook his head sadly. “So, why tell Prince Zuko the story that you did?”

Azula scoffed. “Surely even you must be able to see logic behind it. I could have told the truth and let Zuzu wallow in pointless misery for the rest of his days, mourning a father who never wanted him back for a single minute. Or I could give him what he always wanted. Let him heal and move on into a brighter future. Which seems more reasonable to you?”

“And you think this brighter future can be built on a foundation of lies?”

“All the best structures are,” she smiled sardonically. “Who’s going to contradict me? Father and I really did eat alone the night before he died, and no one but the two of us knew what was said there. Why not use the man’s memory to heal some of the scars he left behind?”

“Princess Azula,” Iroh cautioned. “You should not get into the habit of lying to your brother. It will not turn out well.”

“Oh no? Are you going to run to him and expose me?” Azula leaned forward over the game board. “Are you going to tell a mutilated thirteen-year-old boy that his little sister is a liar, that his father really didn’t care about him at all, that the loving family he dreamed about since childhood was nothing but an illusion? Will you shatter his hope and crush his spirit just like Father did?”

Her uncle looked down, saying nothing.

“So, in the end, you’re just as willing to deceive him as I am,” she narrowed her eyes. “You’re just too squeamish to tell the lies yourself.” The princess looked disdainful. “Pathetic. But what else should I expect from the likes of you?”

“Niece…”

“This entire mess is your fault to begin with,” Azula sat back, crossing her arms.

“You are right, princess,” Uncle dipped his head, voice wavering slightly. “It _is_ my fault. I should never have allowed your brother into that war meeting.”

“The war meeting?!” she hissed venomously. “Is that all you can think of?! You doddering old fool!” The princess slammed both hands down on the game table with a force that surprised even her, rattling the pieces and spilling some of Iroh’s tea. “You’ve been failing Zuko for _years_ , you miserable coward!”

The old general blinked, but remaining silent as Azula leaned forwards, face contorted into a cruel sneer.

“You say that you knew your brother,” her voice was barely raised above a whisper and somehow all the more cutting for it. “Then you knew what kind of father he was. You knew what he would do for the sake of his ambitions. You knew and did _nothing_. When you returned home from Ba Sing Se two years ago, you knew. I told you myself. Your support in the court was strong, suspicion about Fire Lord Azulon’s death was at its highest, you were a firebending master every bit his equal. If you had challenged Father…”

_Killed him._

“Then Zuko and I would have been safe from him. But what did you do instead?” Azula’s tone was riddled with contempt. “You wandered the world aimlessly for months! You came back here and got fat! You wept over your dead son while your niece and nephew were left under your brother’s thumb! Then at last you sailed off on a cruel and useless quest with my brother and left a _child_ to do what the Dragon of the West ought to have done **_years ago_**!”

The princess had never seen Uncle look quite so shaken before. His deep golden eyes were wide, mouth slightly agape, broad face pale. He stared at his niece with eyes visibly moistening. She stared right back with her lips curled. Silence reigned for some time.

“I am sorry,” Iroh eventually managed, bowing his head, allowing a few tears to trickle down his cheeks. “I am sorry that I’ve failed you. I will endeavor to do better.”

“Too late,” Azula snorted, rising to her feet. “I’ll take care of my dumdum of a brother. You obviously can’t be trusted with _another_ son.”

Iroh visibly flinched. Azula turned her back on him, folding her arms behind her back, and made briskly for the nearby exit.

“Princess Azula…” the voice behind her was subdued. “Would you find it so easy to kill your own brother?”

“My brother isn’t _Ozai_ ,” she practically spat, without turning around even slightly. “I bid you a good evening, Uncle. Enjoy your throne while it lasts.”

With that, the princess walked out the balcony door and vanished, leaving the old fool alone with his cooling tea and half-finished game of Pai Sho.

* * *

“Wake up,” came the sound of Azula’s sharp, commanding voice some time that could be charitably described as the next morning. “Wake up! It’s time to wake up, dumdum!”

“Urrrrgh…” her brother moaned from where he lay sprawled out on his richly appointed crimson bed, head still nestled in the overlong cylindrical pillow.

“Agni above, Zuzu, I sent a servant to get you up half an hour ago,” she shook her head.

“And I told her… to get lost,” he still hadn’t opened even one of his eyes. “It’s not even sunrise yet.”

“It’s not even close to sunrise yet,” she informed him, “and that’s the whole point. We’ll need to begin the next stage of your training by evaluating your performance under various conditions, and transitional periods are the most efficient way of doing so.”

Father hadn’t had the two of them spending significant amounts of time training together for years, so while she knew a good deal about her brother’s capabilities and limits, it was always best to be as precise as possible. Besides, she didn’t know what effect his scarring and exile followed by his father’s sudden death and his return might have had on his abilities.

“…next stage of my training?”

“Your firebending training, Zuzu. What else?” Spirits, you’d have thought from the way he sounded that it wasn’t a whole three and a half hours past midnight.

“Who made you my firebending instructor?” Zuzu murmured.

“I did.”

“…Of course,” he groaned, then proceeded to pull the covers up over his head.

Azula put her hands on her hips and sighed. “Get up or I’m setting the bed on fire.”

When her dumdum didn’t respond for a few more seconds, Azula sighed again and raised one hand. An orb of fire took shape almost immediately between her outstretched fingers, bathing the dark bedroom in its pale blue light.

“Three…” she warned in her best menacing tone, which she was honestly rather proud of. “Two…”

“Okay, okay!” Zuko sat halfway up, leaning heavily on one arm. He shook his head, rubbed his forehead with his free hand, and blinked a few times before glaring over at her. “What’s gotten into you?!”

“What’s gotten into me?” Azula extinguished the flaming sphere, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I just happen to have taken you at your word. Was I mistaken to do so?”

“Whuh?” he yawned.

“Yesterday, you vowed to me that you wouldn’t let me down. Was that true, or wasn’t it?”

“Of course it was true!”

“Excellent,” she crossed her arms. “Then get up, get dressed, and come with me to the palace’s training yard. You’ll find it’s quite unoccupied this early in the day.”

Of course, they could just order anyone they found inside of it when they wanted to make use of the facility to vacate anyway, but who was counting?

“Nrrrgh…” Zuzu rubbed his good eye with one hand. “I didn’t agree to anything like this.”

“You should know better than to make open-ended vows to _me_ ,” Azula smirked for a moment, then leaned forward. “But seriously, yesterday you vowed to rise again from this whole mess as the prince you were always meant to be. A good prince of the Fire Nation should be the best firebender he can be, right?”

“Yes.”

“And who’s the best firebender that you know?”

“Father?”

“The best one who’s still alive.”

“…Uncle?”

The princess rolled her eyes. He _had_ to be doing that on purpose.

“Just get up, Zuzu,” she stood up from his bed. “We’re to make a worthy prince out of you, starting right now. I’ll be generous,” she started walking towards the doorway, “meet me by the stairs in five minutes, and I won’t make us jog up and down a few dozen flights to warm up.”

“Since when do I take orders from you?”

“Since my big strong brother promised his sweet little sister that he wouldn’t let her down, so she got up _so_ early just to help him out,” the princess clasped her hands together and batted suddenly wide eyes, an angelic-looking smile on her face.

“…You’re evil, Azula.”

“I know,” she smirked, then walked right out the open door. “Five minutes, Zuzu.”

A few minutes later, the siblings were lightly descending polished onyx staircases and making their way softly through quiet halls, deserted save for the few guards unlucky enough to be on duty at this time of night and/or morning. It really depended on one’s perspective.

“So…” the still bleary-eyed prince asked his sister. “You’re really looking to help me out with my firebending?”

“Of course. You’re my brother. If you’re falling behind where I excel, surely I should assist you in catching up as best you can.”

“…Father didn’t see it that way,” Zuko looked down.

“He was beginning to, before the end,” she lied again, then shook her head. “But please, don’t worry your pretty little head about what the dead think. That’s a waste of time, they can’t speak to you, so you’ll run yourself ragged trying to appease figures that only exist in your head. Worry about what the people still with you think instead.”

“The person with me is you.”

“Exactly,” the princess put three fingers beneath his chin and gently nudged it upwards. “And _I_ say that you have the potential to be a great firebending master, Zuzu. You just need the right instructor.”

“The right instructor being you?”

“Naturally,” she said with a cocky smile.

Zuko snorted but gave a slight chuckle all the same before his face resumed its more serious look.

“Do you really mean that?” he asked.

“I always mean what I say. To you, I mean. Or…” Agni, that had come out wrong. “I mean what I say to you, except the cruel things that I’ve said before. I didn’t mean those. But I meant everything else, and everything I’ll be saying from now on.”

“Did you mean what you said about setting the bed on fire then?”

“Of course.”

“Agni, Azula…” he shook his head, but still had a trace of a smirk.

“Oh relax, I would have left a path for you to get off safely,” she put a hand on his shoulder. “You just needed some proper motivating, that’s all.”

“ _That’s_ your idea of proper motivating?”

“It got you out of bed, didn’t it?”

“…Maybe I’m not the only one with something to learn here.”

“We’ll see, Zuzu,” Azula said as they pushed open the double doors to the desolate training yard, polished stone surfaces glittering as they began lighting the braziers. “We’ll see.”

The princess had her brother begin with the basic forms. It wasn’t anything terribly technical or sophisticated, just a quick run through of the simple katas of firebending that formed the roots of all the more advanced styles. They had both learned these when they were children, and she was pleased to see that the prince hadn’t forgotten. His style was swift and overpowering, but still commendably on point. Well… mostly.

“Almost perfect,” she pronounced at the end of it.

Zuzu awkwardly scratched behind his mostly shaved head. “Well, thanks, I-”

“ _Almost isn’t good enough_ ,” she told him with surprising intensity.

“Oh.”

“You’re over reliant on your muscles, remember that power in firebending comes from the breath and not the movements of your limbs. You need to put less force and more internal energy into each blow, so that you don’t overextend and one kata flows smoothly into the next. Remember, you’re not throwing an actual punch intended to hit someone. You don’t need to move like you are.”

“I see…” he nodded slowly.

“Oh and…”

Azula’s foot suddenly lashed out, catching the ankle Zuzu was leaning much too heavily on in a hooked, sweeping kick. The prince staggered and tumbled forward, falling face-first towards the ground, only to be caught by his wrist before he could touch it. He looked over his shoulder at the princess, holding him suspended about an inch over the stone floor.

“Watch your footwork.”

She promptly dropped him.

“…any other advice?” Zuko asked as he rolled over and sat up.

“Yes. Ditch the phoenix tail. You look better with a full head of hair and a topknot.”

“I meant _firebending_ advice.”

“Then be more specific next time,” the princess had a slight smile on her face as she offered her brother one immaculately manicured hand.

Zuko looked at it, up at her face, then cracked a faint grin of his own before accepting it.

“Now,” the princess began. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

Their sequences went on for over four straight hours. Azula took pains to demonstrate each individual move first slowly and step by step, then as if being used in live combat. That flawless precision that Father had been so proud of was now Zuko’s bane, as he soon discovered that his sister liked nothing better than to stop mid-sequence, walk over to him, and physically correct the tiniest errors in posture or limb rotation. Nothing said fearsome firebender like one’s little sister halting in the middle of a strike to come over and adjust the position of one’s pinky finger by a quarter inch.

As the morning sun rose slowly behind the siblings their bursts of fire grew larger. Azula’s marginally so, while Zuko’s more conventional flames noticeably increased in size. She frowned to see that, as it indicated that her brother did not know how to most effectively firebend during the night. Standard attacks at least ought to remain relatively consistent no matter the position of the sun. The absence of Agni’s light could be mostly compensated for with only minimal extra expenditure of chi, if one knew how. Another lesson that she would have to teach him.

Her lesson plans for that were cut short, though, when one of the heavy doors to the training yard creaked behind her. The princess didn’t turn around, simultaneously hoping that it wasn’t who she thought it was and knowing that her hope was doomed to be dashed.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” came the sound of a familiar genial voice.

Of course it was.

“Uncle,” Zuko smiled and bowed at the waist. He didn’t see the frown that briefly crossed Azula’s face. “You came to watch us train?”

“To help, actually,” Iroh returned the bow and smiled back. “I may be getting old, but I still know a thing or two.”

“I’m a little surprised to see you out here, Honored Regent,” Azula turned and gave her own bow in a perfectly polite way. “Don’t you have many new duties to attend to?”

“Not so many that I couldn’t spare some time for my favorite niece and nephew,” he continued to smile right at her, and Azula sighed internally.

* * *

Azula spent a very long time training Zuko. That was easy enough to say, considerably harder to actually do. Her brother was a mess of contradictions. On the one hand there was the bright, spirited young prince that she had known since childhood, full of vigor and eager to play his role. On the other, the results of years of neglect and disdain culminating in a considerable portion of his face being burned off by the very father he’d tried so hard to please did not disappear with a few inspiring quips in the old fool’s crypt. Her duty was, at its most basic, to empower the former and strangle the latter. Easier said than done.

That she was a harsh instructor, the princess would never deny. Day after day she routinely pushed Zuzu to the very edge of his physical limits between endless drills, spars with herself or the guards, and simple physical exercise. She’d challenge him during training, ask him random questions about lessons that she or his tutors in other subjects had given in the middle of a sparring match and go in hard if he tripped up or hesitated even a little, and sometimes even attack him totally out of the blue while they were in the middle of a different exercise simply to hone his reflexes.

But Azula was not cruel. Not to her brother. Not anymore, and never again. When Zuzu fell, she would point out, sometimes acerbically, exactly where he went wrong and what he had to do to fix it, and then help him to his feet. Those few times when she genuinely pushed her brother too far, the princess would back off and allow him time to rest and recover. She made a point to make it clear exactly why she was doing what she did: because she loved him and wanted him to be the best prince that he could be.

With Ozai dead and burned, Azula was free to openly give her brother at least some of the affection that he’d always wanted from his family. She would never allow that to make her soft on the training ground – that would hardly be to Zuko’s ultimate benefit after all – but outside of it she was happy to be there for him. He’d been there for her when she was little, after all. Between Father who looked at her as a means to increase his own power and prestige and Mother who thought her indifference to the welfare of animals and servants and pointless things meant that she was a bad child, her brother had been the only one to simply cherish her, even after she did things that he didn’t like.

Whether it was playing board or card games with him, relaxing together in hot springs or beneath the stars, commandeering some of the navy’s new steam-powered jet skis for rides and races around the harbor, or even such silly things as debating the merits of the various characters from _Love Amongst the Dragons_ , Azula was happy to do it all. It was a redemption, of sorts, for failing to act sooner. If she’d been a braver, better sister, then her brother wouldn’t have endured what he had. And besides that, it was simply fun. Ozai would have called it frivolous but look where that had gotten him.

Uncle, when he was able to take the time away from his new duties to personally get involved in her brother’s training (and her’s, she supposed), proved a very different sort of teacher. His emphasis on frequent repetition of the basics and breath control in particular was irritating, acting as though neither of his brother’s children were familiar with such things. He was much slower to teach advanced sets than his brother had been, and didn’t push either of them even as hard as Azula pushed Zuzu, never mind Father’s harsh methods. The princess felt sure that if she’d been depending on Uncle to teach her as a child then she wouldn’t be half the firebender that she was today, prodigy or not.

Iroh did have just a few positives, though. He never wanted her to say cruel things to Zuzu, like Father had. When she helped her brother in front of him, he’d smile and later tell her what a good sister that she was. And Uncle, Azula begrudgingly admitted, did turn out to know a _few_ good tricks. She hadn’t even been aware that redirecting lightning was possible until he’d brought it up one afternoon. Most importantly of all, though, she could trust the weak old man not to hurt her brother. That, more than anything else, was why she had intimidated the council into making him regent.

All of the effort did have a noticeable effect on Zuzu. His particular gifts became plainer over time, and the more they did the more Azula thought Father a fool for neglecting them. The prince was physically stronger than his sister by a considerable margin and had a greater tolerance for pain than she did. The cruel scar across the left side of his face had weakened his vision on that side, though it did not leave him blind. Azula for her part boasted superior agility, reflexes, a gift for tactical awareness, and an inner flame that simply burned brighter than his. Even she could not teach raw talent. Still, her Zuzu did possess the makings of a powerful if somewhat lesser firebender than herself, a loyal heart, and above all a dogged sense of determination that just would not let him stay down.

But, in spite of the strength he was gaining under her tutelage, her brother’s doubts about himself were not all gone. Traumatic rejection as severe as what he had endured would not be expunged so easily, not when the reminder was permanently seared into his face. She saw them in his downcast eyes whenever he fumbled a lesson. She saw them in his intermittent visits to Ozai’s crypt. But most of all, she saw them when she attempted to teach Zuko lightning. The cold-blooded fire had simply exploded in his face when he’d tried to use it, no fewer than five separate times before she ended the lesson and moved on to something else. Azula was careful not to bring it up again or practice it in front of Zuzu, but the burning shame in his eyes and the tightness of his clenched jaw were impossible to forget.

Her brother needed affection, validation, and time to heal, that much was clear. She would do everything she could to see that he got them.

The following years passed in that manner, the happiest years of the princess’ young life if she was being honest. All the while, the day when Azula was to be coronated as Fire Lord drew nearer and nearer. Zuko eventually turned sixteen, the age at which, if the original succession had still been in place, Uncle would have stepped down and Zuzu would have taken his place. Instead, the old man would get two more years in power, then it would be her turn. During all of that time, the prince hadn’t ever requested his rightful throne back. He hadn’t even mentioned it. On the day that the palace celebrated their prince’s sixteenth birthday, Azula had asked him why.

“Because I don’t want us to fight about it,” he’d answered immediately, in that earnest way of his.

Unbelievable. Simply unbelievable. A boy more different than his greedy, grasping father was difficult to imagine. Ozai had been willing to do anything to usurp his brother’s birthright, now her own brother preferred a relationship with his little sister to the throne that ought to have been his. How lucky for him, she’d thought, that he would have both anyway.

Azula had made up her mind a long time ago about what to do with the throne Father had bestowed upon her. She would hold on to it until the cleanup phases of the war were over, and the necessary cruelties that would pain her brother’s soft heart were out of the way. After that, she would abdicate in his favor, allowing Zuko to rule in a golden age where all the lands were Fire Nation, where the fighting was safely done with, and the world could begin a renaissance of art, culture, and science in an era of peace and plenty. That would suit him best. Once her big brother was safely ensconced on the Dragon Throne, Azula would visit Ozai’s tomb and rub her father’s final failure right in his dead, worthless face.

* * *

Uncle did not like the war, that much was obvious from the beginning of his regency. When the old Dragon of the West had lost Lu Ten, he’d lost his taste for battle alongside his son. From the way he spoke to her about it, Azula was quite sure that if it had been entirely up to him, he would have ordered a general withdrawal of Fire Nation troops across the whole of the Earth Kingdom. He might even have tried to return some of the colonies, out of some misguided, sentimental idealism.

Unfortunately for Iroh, and fortunately for more right-minded royalty, one hundred years of war would not stop simply because one man was dead. The Fire Nation’s army remained large, strong, and unmarred by significant defeats. To simply order soldiers immersed for their entire lives in pro-war sentiment to just break off and return home without any militarily compelling reason to do so would invite half the officers in the army to show up to the palace doors demanding Agni Kai or trying to assassinate their ruler. That is, if they didn’t outright revolt and Uncle inadvertently start a civil war trying to end the current one. The Fire Nation was simply too strong, too proud of its strength, to accept anything but a victorious peace now that they were so close to winning anyway.

The other major problem with that idea was that it took two to make such a peace. The princess knew that her uncle had been trying to put out feelers in that direction to Ba Sing Se and Omashu. She’d even noticed him inviting Zuzu’s old sword master Piandao, of all people, over to the palace to discuss the latter at least twice. Of the former, though, she heard next to nothing, which probably meant that whoever he had been sending had not been coming back. Intelligence from inside of Ba Sing Se was notoriously spotty. Virtually all of the spies the Fire Nation had attempted to seed into refugee groups over the years had been caught, presumably by the mysterious Dai Li that patrolled the city’s streets, almost immediately. No Fire Nation agent had ever made it past the Middle Ring and reported back on it. No one in Caldera City knew what was going on in the halls of power over there. It could be that the Earth King simply didn’t want to talk to the man who had almost taken his city in his infamous six-hundred-day siege. More the fool him. Without a formal and favorable peace agreement with someone with the authority to make one to present to the country, simply declaring the war over wasn’t politically feasible. Not unless one wanted to risk igniting a civil war in its place.

So, her old fuddy-duddy uncle was forced to try a different tac. Under Iroh’s regency, the Fire Nation’s grand strategy shifted from one of offense to one of consolidation. With colonies firmly implanted for decades along the mineral-rich northwest coast of the continent and agricultural products flowing freely from its heartlands, they already had all the resources that their nation needed to prosper. Why then, the regent argued, did the Fire Nation need to throw more of its valuable young men at the remaining heavily fortified Earth Kingdom strongholds? What reason, besides vanity, did they have to sacrifice tens or even hundreds of thousands of bright-eyed young soldiers to claim a vast walled city that contained nothing but stone and huddled refugees?

Better, he said, to focus on building up their infrastructure and defenses in the lands already under their control, not to try to stretch their army too thin. Despite the protests of not an insignificant number of the upper echelons of the officer corps, approval for offensive operations over the following years almost never came. Instead, the soldiers of the Fire Nation occupied their time sweeping their territories clean of guerilla fighters and bandits, building new defensive works at strategic locations, and generally entrenching themselves. The navy ceased its harassment campaigns against villages and refugee ships along the inland sea, stepping up anti-piracy operations along the coasts in their place. The war was not technically over but fighting across the front ground to a virtual halt over the course of the first several months of his regency. Small skirmishes continued here and there, but even these dwindled the more obvious it became that the earthbenders could neither effectively breach the Fire Nation’s metal walls nor provoke their enemies into overextending.

Azula wasn’t particularly worried by her uncle’s cowardice. It was annoying, yes, and unbefitting a member of the Royal Family, but it didn’t change the strategic picture. The Earth Kingdom was too divided, too battered from decades of bloody war, to launch a coordinated counterattack on a scale required to dislodge their armies from the continent. The Southern Water Tribe was all but extinct, the Northern Water Tribe was content to hole up in their frozen fortress and take no meaningful action.

Sozin’s Comet would be returning in the not too distant future, and with it such an unparalleled advantage that even Iroh would be forced to do something lest hundreds of disgruntled officers take it upon themselves to act in his place. Most likely he would order a quick speartip thrust at Ba Sing Se. Based on records from almost a century ago, on that glorious day even small teams of unexceptional firebenders would be able to shatter the impenetrable city’s walls like they were made of glass. A rapid strike straight for the palace, an attempt to capture the leadership and force a capitulation with minimal loss of life, that sounded like Uncle. However reluctantly, he would have no choice but to win the war on the day the comet returned.

* * *

One pleasant evening two years and a few months after the thoroughly unlamented demise of her father found Princess Azula sitting alone in a palace courtyard not far from the throne room, again watching the sun slowly dip over the horizon. It was winter, not far from the solstice in fact, but in the Fire Nation’s warm climate even that time of year was mild. She had a steaming mug of one of Uncle’s jasmine teas in her hand anyway and a scroll across her lap, simply doing a little light reading after another hard day’s work. The history of clan warfare during the pre-unification days was always an interesting subject for her. So many tangled alliances, so many untimely betrayals.

Her quiet time was interrupted when the nearby double doors burst open with a loud bang, unpleasantly jolting the princess from her reverie. She looked up and saw a young man in light red robes of a junior scribe, rank insignia identifying his affiliation with the navy. His face was flush and slick with sweat, as if he’d just run a good deal further than he was used to. His eyes were nervous, and Azula wondered what he was bothering about.

“Your highness!” the breathless messenger panted, clutching a scroll with a black ribbon tied around it close to his chest. “I bring urgent news… for the Regent Fire Lord’s attention! A report… from Commander Zhao.”

Commander Zhao? Some jumped-up fourth or fifth son of a lesser nobleman if she recalled, promoted to his current rank near the end of Fire Lord Ozai’s tenure. Insatiably ambitious and recklessly aggressive, he had been one of the foremost critics of the Fire Nation’s current retrenchment strategy within the military. In turn he had been assigned to a quiet naval repair yard not far from the south pole, with nothing to do but sit and seethe in his own irrelevance. Father might have liked him. Azula, who had caught a glimpse of his expression during Zuzu’s Agni Kai, did not. Zhao ought to thank Agni that he was far away from her and too inconsequential to really bother about. What could he possibly want? 

“Calm down,” the princess ordered, taking a sip of her tea. “And give me the message. I’ll relay it to my uncle if it’s worth his time.”

“It’s… the Avatar, princess,” the man was still breathing hard. “Commander Zhao reports… that the Avatar has returned.”


	3. Chapter 3

The news of the Avatar’s return caused quite a stir around court, to say the very least. One hundred full years of absence had convinced most of the Fire Nation’s upper echelons that the legendary master of all four elements was gone forever – hence Ozai’s choice to foist the search off on his unwanted son. To hear that he had returned after all of this time left more than a few faces looking pale, concerned about what an ancient master with a century of mastery under his belt could accomplish. At least they were until they actually heard Zhao’s report.

According to the Commander, he had been “patrolling” the frigid waters well south of the naval yard actually under his charge – looking for something left to fight down there, more likely – when his crew had spotted a mysterious beam of light rising above the ice. Investigating the source, he had soon located a flare identified as coming from a long-lost ship of the Southern Raiders, and from there followed the trail to a nearby collection of the southern savages’ huts.

The way Zhao described it, he and his men had stormed the village, doing battle with the tribesmen along the way, before the officer bravely confronted the Avatar in single combat. He painted the picture of a fierce duel with a well-trained airbending master, trading blows with a mighty opponent who had proven so much stronger than his apparent age suggested. In the end, though, the superior element won out, and the Avatar was taken aboard his ship in chains. He had then left a contingent of naval firebenders to secure the site of his victory, before promptly turning around and heading north at full steam.

Uncle had just sighed wearily at that and given the order to send another ship down there to pick the troops back up. Azula didn’t disagree. What did the Fire Nation need its valuable benders sitting around in a squalid water peasant village in the middle of a desolate frozen wasteland for again?

From there, Zhao’s triumphant tale turned to tragedy, as the Avatar managed to escape from the ship’s brig after he had left him in the hands of his subordinates. Before the Commander had caught up with him again, the slippery airbender had leapt upon some mysterious flying cow that had pulled up alongside the ship with a pair of water savages on board. Dodging bursts of flame all the while, the three of them had pulled up into the clouds and vanished from view. The report concluded with a drawing of the Fire Nation’s newest enemy, supplied by a shipboard artist.

The Avatar was a boy. A bald, friendly-faced boy with a blue tattoo on his head and the look of someone who smiled easily. Agni, the supposedly one hundred and twelve-year-old master of all four elements looked younger than _her_.

Messenger hawks were sent back out swiftly, of course, bearing copies of the Avatar’s image to the four corners of the empire, announcing his identity and ordering his arrest, pending delivery to the Regent Fire Lord. Azula noticed the special care that Iroh put into emphasizing the parts about “alive” and “intact as possible”. How like him to be squeamish about hurting a child, even one that could one day represent the single greatest threat the Fire Nation’s rightful dominance of the earth.

The courtiers were beside themselves for days, of course. There was everything from panic to anger at Uncle’s foolish refusal to press their offensive while the Avatar was still missing to gushing admiration at the Regent Fire Lord’s farsighted preparations that would make it next to impossible for even the Avatar to dislodge their entrenched armies, and a variety of amusing reactions in between. Personally, the princess felt that they were overreacting. If one ship’s worth of men could bring him to heel, even temporarily, such that he felt the need to flee instead of sinking it with all aboard, then clearly the boy wasn’t all that the Avatar was cracked up to be. The countdown to the Fire Nation’s final victory was still on, the comet growing closer by the day.

What really caught Azula’s attention was Zuko’s reaction. He’d been as shocked as anyone to hear it at first, of course. But once that initial surprise wore off, something entirely different emerged. He didn’t say anything out loud, she’d taught him well enough to avoid that at least, but the princess’ eyes were ever observant. She spotted the redoubled spark of determination in his eyes when they trained together. From the quiet of a nearby meditation chamber, she heard him pacing the floor of his room at night. She knew that he’d visited Father’s crypt the very same day the news first broke. And whenever fresh word arrived pertaining to the Avatar’s whereabouts and activities, the prince would never be far behind.

Reports continued to trickle in over the following weeks. Zhao, apparently having taken it upon himself to make it his personal mission to capture the Avatar – absent any actual orders to do so, notably – regularly sent status updates to the palace. Other garrisons scattered up and down the continent sent less frequent but considerably less overblown reports. By following these and reading between the lines, it was possible to discern the group’s course. 

The Avatar and his Water Tribe followers were heading north. Oh, it was an erratic course, to be sure. Enough to make one question if the boy knew where he was going at all. One moment he was spotted off Kyoshi Island in the Earth Kingdom, the next he somehow wound up on Crescent Island on the eastern tip of the Fire Nation itself. But their general direction, as reported by Zhao and corroborated by other units that happened to run into them, was unmistakable. Zuzu even made a map in his room showing the various sightings, connected by date. He probably thought that she didn’t notice that either.

After around the first few reports, the princess felt that she had a decent enough profile emerging of the Fire Nation’s newest enemy. After a few more, she was sure of it. The boy was slippery and highly mobile, capable of defeating modest numbers of ordinary soldiers with relative ease. He much seemed to prefer avoidance to outright confrontation, though. He also happened to display no particular skill with any element besides air. One thing conspicuous by its absence was any reports of fatalities associated with clashes with the Avatar. There were casualties, but all were of a nonfatal sort and even serious injuries were rare. Zhao himself notably survived several encounters with the boy, and Azula doubted very much that that was due to any great skill on the Commander’s part. A squeamish one, then. Useful to know.

Weeks continued to pass. Zhao’s reports continued to come in, always of continuing failure to actually capture his target, always because of someone else’s mistakes, naturally. He unsubtly complained about a lack of authority on a few occasions, notably when Colonel Shinu refused to relinquish the Yuyan Archers to his command and hinted that he could get better results with greater rank and more resources. Uncle supplied neither, though he also never told Zhao to stop. The princess got the impression that that was more for the regular updates on what was going on over there than any real hope of the man’s success.

Eventually, however poorly-plotted his course, with his flying bovine to carry him the Avatar was bound to reach his destination. Zhao’s latest report told of his ship reaching the edge of the oceans controlled by the Northern Water Tribe, being forced to turn back before their infamously effective ice field ambushes put his flagship out of commission. The Commander surmised that the Avatar was seeking a waterbending master at the north pole. Seeing his would-be prize slip so decisively out of his grasp must have rattled the man, because this time his requests to the Regent Fire Lord were about as subtle as a bull komodo rhino in mating season. He asked for a promotion to Admiral, as well as permission to assemble and lead a massive invasion force to capture the Avatar and eliminate the Northern Water Tribe once and for all.

Uncle nixed the entire idea almost immediately upon reading it, and with a rationale even Azula couldn’t really find fault with. The Northern Water Tribe lived in an icy fortress by the sea constantly surrounded by virtually limitless quantities of their element. The cost in Fire Nation lives required to claim their chief city without the comet’s power to back them up would be a high one indeed, and at the end their most probable reward would be nothing at all.

The north pole had no resources worth anything to the Fire Nation’s industries or economy, occupied no strategic position from which further gains could be expected, and its inhabitants had played virtually no role in the war for over eight decades. So, in the end, all they could reasonably expect in exchange for as massive a military commitment as requested was thousands of corpses, a desolate ice cube city in the middle of nowhere with nothing they wanted, the destruction of a people who posed no real threat anyway, and the Avatar just flying away on his mount with a waterbending master in tow at the end of the battle. Zhao’s cryptic hints about knowing some way to remove waterbending as a threat permanently were summarily dismissed as the incompetent’s usual bluster.

Instead, a cordon of light cruisers equipped with the fastest messenger hawks available was set up just beyond the water savages’ usual range, along the most probable routes back south. The Avatar was supposed to master all four elements, not just water, and he was on a very tight schedule if he somehow wanted to stop them before the war was won at summer’s end. It was inevitable that he would be returning to the Earth Kingdom continent, so much of which was securely fortified in the Fire Nation’s hands. That would be their single best chance of seizing him. Several more weeks later, and word arrived from the north that that was exactly what had happened.

This time, after the war meeting where the news was read – both siblings had standing invitations, naturally – Zuko stayed on after the generals and admirals had been dismissed, and that was enough to keep Azula in the room as well. She couldn’t help feeling a surge of pride as her brother stepped down from his place at Uncle’s left hand, looking so magnificent and regal in his crimson clothes and ornate, highly polished black and gold armor. He’d finally taken her advice and regrown his hair over a year and a half ago, pinning his topknot in place with a three-pronged scarlet hairpiece edged in gold. The prince dropped to one knee before the wall of fire in front of the throne, one fist on the floor and head bowed, and the princess knew how the conversation would play out before it even began.

“Regent Fire Lord,” he said, in an obviously rehearsed voice. “I have a request I’d like to make.”

“I have told you many times before, Prince Zuko, that there is no need to stand on formalities when we are alone together,” Uncle sighed. “Please rise and speak your mind.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” he got up, smiling faintly. “Someone needs to capture the Avatar before he can do serious harm to the Fire Nation, and it’s become clear that Commander Zhao isn’t up to the task.”

“And I suppose that you have someone in mind?” Iroh sounded resigned.

“I do,” he nodded, then slammed his right fist on the armor covering his heart. “Me. Send me to capture the Avatar.”

“And why, may I ask, do you want me to do that?”

“Because I’m an ideal candidate. I’m well-trained in firebending and swordsmanship, I have experience in stealth, and I know how to track. I have no pressing responsibilities keeping me in the capital, not since the change in succession. I can assemble a crew and be out of here in days. There’s no one so available that’s as gifted and qualified as I am.”

“And your training, you think it makes you a match for the Avatar?”

“He’s only a boy. He may be a proficient airbender, but he can only be an amateur waterbender and there’s no evidence that he knows anything of earthbending or firebending. But the longer we wait to send someone new to capture him, the more proficient he might grow and the harder it will become.” The fist on his chest uncurled. “I’ve spent almost three years now doing nothing but training, studying, improving. What better use is there for all of that than taking down the Avatar before he can threaten us further?”

“What you are asking for is an awfully dangerous assignment, Prince Zuko.”

“I know the risks.”

“Do you? I am not sure.” Iroh looked contemplative. “Please, do not feel obliged to do something reckless to earn approval. You already have it.”

“Please, Uncle, I only want to serve the Fire Nation again!” the prince pleaded. “I’ve put years into improving, making myself stronger. You know I have. What was the point of that if the strength I’ve gained is just going to be wasted doing nothing?”

“It is better to do nothing than to do something foolish, nephew,” Uncle said sternly. “Young or not, the Avatar is not to be underestimated. It would be recklessness to match Zhao’s to try and face him alone. Who do you even propose to bring with you?”

“Me,” Azula took that as her cue to step in, rising from her own place on the Dragon Throne’s right-hand side. “I volunteer to accompany my brother on this hunt.”

“Azula?!” Zuko blinked. “We can’t risk you!” He shook his head vehemently while she stepped down from the dais. “You’re the future Fire Lord.”

 _And so are you, you just don’t know it,_ she thought with a faint smile.

“Why not?” she asked aloud. “It’s family tradition for the heir to join the war.”

That had the advantage of being perfectly true. Fire Lords Sozin and Azulon had both commanded armies and taken to the battlefield in person on many occasions, as had Crown Prince Iroh and the late Lu Ten. The only notable royal absence in the last hundred years of war, naturally enough, was the short-lived Fire Lord Ozai, who had never commanded in the field prior to his ascension.

“In command positions, not like… this.”

“Do you not find me _commanding_ enough for your tastes?” She smirked. “Besides, this scenario has never come up since the war began. It’s natural that the response to an unprecedented situation should be similarly unprecedented.”

“Your coronation is in less than two years.”

“That’s plenty of time.” Azula crossed her arms. “Besides, we’re a _team_ , dumdum. We’d be so much stronger together than apart. The Avatar wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“I can do it on my own!” Zuzu insisted.

“Prince Zuko, there is nothing _wrong_ with letting someone who loves you help you,” Uncle told his nephew in a kindly voice, stepping off of his throne.

“…Is that a yes then, Uncle?”

“I am not sure,” Iroh stroked his beard, looking thoughtful. “I must ask that you give me time to consider this proposal of yours. It is too important a decision to simply make on the spot.”

“Yes, Uncle,” Zuko bowed at the waist.

* * *

“Prince Zuko is going to try to go after the Avatar even if I forbid him,” Uncle said with a heavy voice, “isn’t he?”

“Probably,” Azula acknowledged, weighing the Pai Sho board in front of her carefully before sliding a tile across it. “You know how my brother is. Once an idea gets stuck in his head it’s awfully hard to get it out again.”

Uncle and niece played the strategy game semiregularly now, a lone point of contact amidst all that had kept them at a distance for these past few years. The old general was a much cannier opponent than the princess’ brother, one that she didn’t have to allow to win from time to time to keep his spirits up. A real challenge to her mind was welcome, and if the game allowed her to drink Iroh’s admittedly excellent tea without having to suffer the indignity of asking him for it, that was simply a bonus. Today saw the two lounging amidst the palace gardens, playing in the shade of a tree beside an artificial stream.

“That boy…” Iroh shook his head a little ruefully. “What am I going to do with him?”

“You’re going to let him go hunting the Avatar, of course,” Azula told him, carefully watching as he made his move. “And when he comes back triumphantly, you’re going to fete him as the hero that he always wished his father saw him as.”

“You’re being quite forward about this.”

“Of course I am,” she moved. “How could I not be? Zuzu _needs_ this, Uncle. You know he’s always wanted to be useful, to play his role well and with honor. That’s why he wanted into that damned war meeting to begin with. Father stripped him of his role as heir to the throne, so what’s left for him? We’ve spent years working on his firebending, what better use for it is going to present itself?” Azula sipped her tea again, savoring the relaxing flavor with her eyes closed. “But even more, this is his chance to finally finish redeeming himself in his own eyes. To heal the last of the scars Father left on his soul, and finally prove to himself that he _was_ worthy of the old man’s love.”

Iroh sighed. “You realize that if he had been allowed to come to terms with how his father truly felt about him, then he might not feel that this was necessary.”

“I’m so very sorry for not gambling Zuzu’s fragile psyche on your desire to be honest with him. After all he had just been through, he could just as easily have collapsed completely as learned to live with it,” she rubbed her chin with one finger a moment before moving. “And don’t get moralistic with me. You’re as complicit in allowing him to think that as I am. You could have told him at any point.”

“It is different for someone to reveal their own deception than to have it revealed for them,” he told her. “Has it occurred to you, Princess Azula, that I might not want to damage your relationship with your brother?”

“Yes, yes,” she nodded rather absently, continuing to watch the board, “because it keeps me from devolving into _your_ brother when I take the throne.”

“Because I _care_ about you, niece,” Uncle said gently, even while moving. “You and Zuko both.”

“Yes, your _care_ did the two of us so much good back when we were at our father’s tender mercies,” the princess rolled her eyes and slid a tile with two fingers. “Get back to me when you can care the scar off my Zuzu’s handsome face.”

The Regent Fire Lord bowed his head. “I admit I failed to act when I ought to have.”

“And I again reject your apology,” she said flatly. “You haven’t changed at all.”

“So be it,” he sighed mournfully, before straightening up and continuing the game. “Please… just promise me that you will be careful out there. Do not take undue risks. I do not think I could bear to lose another child.”

_I’m not your child._

“Zuzu won’t come to any more harm,” Azula said aloud, quite confidently. “I won’t allow it.”

“I know,” Iroh nodded solemnly. “But please be sure to take care of yourself as well.”

“No need to be concerned about that,” she sipped her tea with a sly smile, then moved yet another tile. “You ought to worry more about anything that tries to stand in our way.”

“I do,” he muttered. “I cannot tell you not to fight with the war still ongoing… but please, consider the consequences if you must.”

Azula rolled her eyes again. After all this time, Uncle _still_ harbored hopes to conclude the war by treaty rather than conquest. One doubtlessly weighted in the Fire Nation’s favor, enough to allow him to make a claim of victory sufficient to mollify most of the military, but still one that would allow the Earth Kingdom to continue to exist in some form or another. Even with a number of secret emissaries having simply vanished behind the walls of the impenetrable city. Even with the comet only months away. If that didn’t prove the old man a fool as well as a coward, she didn’t know what did.

Still, there was some remote possibility of Iroh succeeding, should the Earth King ever grow half a brain and realize that his strategic position was untenable. If that proved to be the case, then doubtless Uncle hoped that between the comet having passed before her coronation and Zuzu’s softness, she could be persuaded to honor whatever agreement he made. The worst part in that case was that it was possible he might be right. It would be difficult to make her brother happy with the gift of a world won through blatant treachery. Engineering a pretext that was both sufficient to restart the war and not alienating to Zuzu might prove challenging.

The possibility of being denied a total victory at the last moment rankled Azula’s pride, but for the moment there was nothing for it. Zuzu’s well-being was more important than any amount of land to her, his happiness she treasured above even her need to win. She’d just have to look for opportunities along the way and rely on the Earth King continuing to be as stubborn as the rocks of the land he ruled. A sucker’s bet if there ever was one.

“Don’t worry,” she flashed her uncle a winning smile, “I _will_.”

* * *

“Are you sure that this is wise?” Piandao asked, a cup of tea in his hands.

“No,” said Iroh from across the low table. “But I am sure that it is necessary.”

“It’s the princess, isn’t it?” the middle-aged swords master asked.

“She still does not listen to me,” the Regent Fire Lord sighed heavily. “For as much as she hates my late brother, she yet walks his path. To Azula, as to Ozai, peace is cowardice and dominion the only thing worth having. If nothing is done, when my niece assumes the throne in less than two years’ time, then I do not think any peace we can forge will last.”

“You realize that some within the Order would like to consider an… alternative solution.”

“ _No_!” Iroh’s voice was unshakably firm. “That is my final word on the subject. There has been enough blood spilled within my family. There has been enough blood spilled in the world.”

“That’s what I told them you’d say,” Piandao had a faint smile on his lips as he drank his tea. “They say you’re a wise man.”

“Hah,” he chortled. “I’m just an old fool who learned his lesson far too late.”

“Aren’t we all?” the younger man echoed the older’s smirk.

“Some of them thought I should have called off Zhao as well.”

“They don’t understand the Fire Nation.”

“No,” Iroh shook his head, looking more somber. “They do not.” He sighed. “Our nation is too proud for its own good.”

Both men knew perfectly well that doing nothing at all in front of the upper echelons military upon the Avatar’s return would not have been a viable option – someone had to be sent after him. Better it was Zhao than someone with a higher chance of success.

It was the same reason that Iroh could not simply call off the war. The Fire Nation did not feel defeated, they felt like conquerors poised on the brink of total victory. If the war were to suddenly, unilaterally be declared over from on high, then the nation’s pride would be so outraged at the perceived stab in the back that a revolt was inevitable. Azula might well be the one leading it. And, however earnestly committed he was to peace, Iroh was simply not going to feed thousands of loyal, albeit misguided sons of fire into a meatgrinder to create the sense of defeat that would be necessary for the nation to accept such a loss of face. Not again. Never again.

Even the Order’s plan to end the war as gracefully as possible, to arrange a treaty allowing what remained of the Earth Kingdom to continue to exist as an unoccupied tributary state, was going to be a contentious issue for the Fire Nation as it stood. They anticipated more than one Agni Kai over it in even the best of circumstances. It would undeniably end the war with a Fire Nation victory, but anything less than total domination would rankle the noses of many.

Two things stood in the way of, if not a restoration of true balance, at least a tentative step towards it. The first was Sozin’s Comet. While some amongst the generals and admirals could learn to content themselves with most of the world instead of all of it, _no_ passionate son of fire would accept being ordered to stand down and do nothing on the day of their greatest advantage while there was still a war on. The second was the strange intransigence of the Earth King, the only man with the kind of authority to accept such an agreement and make it stick. No one had anticipated that it would be easy to persuade the monarch of the most stubborn people in the world to effectively surrender, but his apparent refusal to even hear anyone out was baffling. Trusted messengers from the White Lotus and the Fire Nation alike had been dispatched to the king’s palace, none had returned with even a refusal and an insult. The heart of Ba Sing Se was silent. That did not bode well for the prospects of peace.

The Avatar’s return had caught the White Lotus completely off guard. In many ways, it would have been a simpler matter to resolve if Ozai had still been on the throne. Then they could have simply aided the Avatar in defeating the Fire Lord. But with the Fire Lord also happening to double as their own Grand Lotus? Some had wanted the Avatar to face an impressive Fire Nation army set up to be defeated single-handedly, cowing the more aggressive officers with a raw display of bending might, but Iroh had absolutely refused to betray the troops under his command like that. In the end, they’d reached a vague consensus that a fully realized Avatar on his own would be a powerful argument for peace within the Fire Nation itself and left it at that. The youngster himself yet remained ignorant of the secret society’s existence.

“Will the Avatar be arriving in Omashu soon?” Piandao asked. “Pakku indicated that he seemed excited to be going back.”

“According to our scouts’ plotted trajectory, yes.” Iroh poured himself another cup. “He should be safe there while he masters earthbending.”

“There won’t be any moves from our side?”

“General Yuu and his soldiers are under strict orders to hold their positions and refrain from any aggressive action while we wait for the comet’s return,” the Fire Lord confirmed.

“…Do you think your niece and nephew will be deterred?”

“I hope that they will take a good, hard look at the walls of the mountain city, have a flash of insight and humility, and turn back for home on the spot,” he continued to drink his tea. “But, knowing the two of them, I fully expect that they will try to infiltrate the city one way or another regardless. They are both too proud to back down easily.” He sighed little sadly. “Zuko wants the supposed redemption he imagines he would have received from his father too badly.”

“You’ll want me to send a message to King Bumi then.”

“Yes, please,” Iroh nodded. “Tell him that if he receives visitors, he should be careful who he sends to apprehend them. The pair of them can be quite dangerous.”

“Of course,” Piandao nodded.

“Make sure to tell him to keep them safe,” the Fire Lord said. “Treat them kindly until we can ransom them back to the Fire Nation.”

“You know he will,” the other man smiled a little. “Not that it will stop him from messing with them a little bit while they’re there.”

“I’ve never cared much for those games of his,” Iroh shook his head disapprovingly, then sighed again. “But they may be just what my niece requires to open up her eyes.”

It wasn’t easy to watch his brother’s children march off to war so confidently. Not after what had happened at the walls of Ba Sing Se. But Iroh would not be Fire Lord forever. His niece and nephew were both so proud of their country, so convinced of the righteousness of their cause. Something had to be done to get through to them. His nephew needed to have that soft heart of his pricked with the suffering the hundred years of war had wrought. And if there was anything in the world that could truly turn his niece’s heart against the violence, it would be viewing it as a source of danger to her brother.

* * *

The night before the duo were scheduled to depart, Azula paid another visit to her sire’s crypt. The old Fire Sage maintaining the Dragonbone Catacombs nodded somberly when she appeared from the spiral staircase, bowed solemnly when she ordered him to be gone. The way the old man looked at her, he doubtless assumed that she was here to pay her respects or perhaps ask her father’s spirit for its blessing upon her impending journey.

Truthfully, she was there to gloat.

“How does it feel,” she asked the portrait of Ozai in a silky tone, “to know that the brother you sacrificed everything to usurp has already ruled longer than you did?”

The princess slowly paced back and forth across the tomb, arms folded behind her back, eyes carefully taking in every minor detail, every little disturbance in the dust. Only a single torch was lit with a flickering blue flame, leaving much of the chamber cast in shadow. Her footsteps echoed easily in the confined space.

“How does it feel to know that the daughter you thought your own was never yours at all?” Azula smirked as she passed the urn, vividly imagining Father’s all-too-familiar fury at any offense to his pride, now rendered forever mute and impotent. “How does it feel to know that the son you spurned will one day become Fire Lord, ruling all the nations of the world? Your treasured dream, never to be realized.”

She laughed, a harsh cackle that resounded throughout Father’s crypt, enjoying her vision of him grinding his teeth even from the world of spirits.

“The great Fire Lord Ozai, son of mighty Azulon, brother to the great Dragon. Victor of no battles, conqueror of no lands, doer of no great deeds, second son, thief of birthrights, died alone and un-mourned. Choked on his own insides, rotted miserably for days. No one even cared enough to look very hard to see whether you’d been murdered.”

Azula briefly closed her eyes, envisioning anew the moment of his wretched expiration.

“Zuko and I will leave you tomorrow. You don’t mind a lack of visitors down here, do you?” She ran one finger almost playfully across Father’s dusty urn. “We will return home with the Avatar, covered in the glory and laurels you so coveted. Soon, I will be the Fire Lord who finally realizes Sozin’s dream. Zuko will be the Fire Lord who leads the united world to its glorious future. We will both be the heroes who brought about a golden age.” The princess could just hear the rapturous applause from the depths of the tomb, feel the almost electric excitement running through the crowds, see the statues raised higher than the walls of Ba Sing Se, smell the incense burned in their honor. “When we do depart this life, it will be as titans, magnificent architects of the greatest epoch that the world has ever known. Agni himself will hear our funeral dirge, and he will weep for our passing.”

She paused and took a deep breath, the torch’s azure flame billowing almost to the stone ceiling, savoring the taste of what was to come. After a moment, her eyes flickered open, a twisted smile once more upon her face.

“While you? You’re a footnote. You have nothing. You _are_ nothing. And once this journey comes to an end, we will be free of you.” Azula smirked one last time. “Rest well, Father. You’ve truly _earned_ it.”

She turned to leave, opening the metal door with the press of her of blazing hand. As it slid open, Azula extinguished the lone flame in the crypt with the slightest effort of will, plunging Ozai’s final abode back into utter darkness. She stepped softly past the threshold, flush with a cruel sort of satisfaction.

 _You will_ never _be free of me._

The princess frowned as the chamber doors closed sealed shut behind her.

* * *

By coincidence, the royal sloop carrying the Zuko and Azula on their self-chosen mission left Caldera City’s harbor three years to the day from when Fire Lord Ozai had originally banished his son. The princess wondered if the prince noticed the timing, and what he made of it if he did. Still, she felt it was better not to ask, in case he hadn’t. Zuzu might consider it an ill sign. Azula for her part was not a believer in portents and omens and futures read in the stars, but if she were then she would have counted the timing as a positive sign. It meant that they would be returning home soon.

The journey from the Fire Nation’s capital to the continental port of call closest to the Avatar’s estimated path was scheduled to take a week and three to four days, depending on weather conditions. The siblings each had their own luxurious suite in the palatial tower jutting out of the vessel’s superstructure, which both shared a single broad balcony with a commanding view of the entire ship and the glittering blue ocean stretching out to the horizon. It usually had a pleasant breeze at this height, though Azula didn’t care much for the constant, unavoidable smell of brine.

It was on their second day out of port and Azula was lounging on that balcony in midafternoon, enjoying a lengthy dissertation on Grandfather’s triumph at the Battle of Garsai, as demonstrating the evolution of his tactical acumen from the Burning of Taku. A sampling of the multitude of islands making up the Fire Nation archipelago could be intermittently seen, when the princess could be bothered to look out at them. She idly supposed they were pretty enough, but honestly, she liked her reading material better. So many more useful insights to be gained.

The princess was around halfway through with her thick tome when one of the doors behind her slid open. She glanced up to see her brother as expected and sighed a little to see him with a scroll in hand and a messenger hawk perched on his black and gold vambrace. Hadn’t she told him a hundred times to let the servants handle the menial tasks?

“So,” she shut the book as Zuko stepped out onto the balcony, the bird flapping from his arm to the ornate railing. “I take it Uncle’s changed his mind and wants us back home?” She’d been half expecting it from the old coward, truth be told.

“No,” Zuko shook his head, still reading through the message with a frown on his face.

“Really now?” Azula rose to her feet and arched one immaculate eyebrow. “Then who? And what?”

“Commander Zhao,” he replied. “He’s requesting an audience with us upon our arrival.”

“And?” she leaned back against the railing.

He looked up over the scroll. “And are we going to give it to him?”

“First question, what would we gain from granting one?” Azula looked at her nails. “Second, why are you asking me that?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that this is _your_ expedition, dumdum. You’re in command here. You decide if we give the man even a moment of our time.”

Zuko blinked. “You don’t have an opinion?”

“Well of course I do. I’ll give you my advice when you ask and sometimes when you don’t, but the final decision is still yours.”

Her brother looked her up and down. “You’re the Crown Princess. The future Fire Lord.”

_Because Father stole it for me._

“Back in the capital? Perhaps. While we’re out here?” Azula bowed her head slightly. “I’m a war asset at your disposal,” she straightened back up. “Agni above, you didn’t think I came along to usurp you, did you?”

Zuko stared awkwardly for a moment, then coughed into one hand.

“Really?” she sighed. “After all these years, you don’t know me better than that?”

“…You’re a pretty…” he took time to consider his next words carefully, “ _assertive_ person, Azula.”

“Guilty as charged, I’m afraid,” the princess slid off the balcony’s railing, resuming her full height with hands opened. “But am I really that petty?”

“The last time we raced jet skis by the gates, you used fire jets to win.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “That’s all in the past.”

“It was last week.”

“…Our rules didn’t say anything about not firebending.”

“It sorta goes against the spirit of the contest, don’t you think?”

“I don’t need to answer that,” she huffed, then shook her head. “But, try thinking of it this way, Zuzu. When I become Fire Lord, do you have any plans to usurp me? Any treacherous plots to steal my glory and crown that I should know about?”

“Of course not,” he shook his own head.

“You’re going to be a loyal supporter of the crown, then? Help me out whenever I need it?”

“Don’t you already know the answer?”

“Yes, but I want to hear it from your lips.”

“Yes.” Zuko leaned over the railing, looking out over the deck and the sparkling water beyond.

“Well then,” she walked beside him with a smirk on her face. “You say you’re willing to support me during my moment in the sun, what makes it so difficult to believe that I might support you in yours?” Azula put one comforting hand on her brother’s shoulder. “This is your big moment, Zuzu. Your time to put all that training to good use. Your time to show the Fire Nation just what a fine prince it has, and strike terror into the hearts of our enemies.” Her smile became noticeably gentler. “I’ll have plenty of chances for glory in the days ahead. But this one? This one’s for you. I’m only here to help.”

The prince looked over at his sister, then slowly returned her smile.

“Thanks, Azula.”

“Any time, dumdum,” she patted him fondly on the back.

* * *

The royal siblings’ training continued while at sea, of course. Azula would hardly take a silly thing like being on a quest to capture the boy who had the potential to become the most powerful bender in the world as an excuse to ease off on daily drills. Equally certain was that she couldn’t be seen publicly berating or correcting the mission’s putative commander for the slightest lapse of form. That tended to undermine the underlings’ respect for their superiors. The ship’s deck lacked the soundproofing that the palace’s training yards and sparring chambers featured, meaning even banishing the lessers to below decks while they worked wouldn’t guarantee their privacy. Instead, every day a handful of luckless Imperial Firebenders were chosen as sparring partners, so Zuko and Azula could practice fighting as a team. Azula was quite pleased to hear that the elite soldiers were drawing lots to see who that day’s sacrificial victims were by the fourth day on the open water.

It was midafternoon on the tenth day, shortly after another such sparring and/or victimization session. Zuzu had gone back to the tower to freshen up in preparation for their anticipated arrival within the next hour, while Azula had opted to stay on deck, practicing the katas for lightning. Not actually performing it with men on the deck, and more importantly her brother nearby to hear the crack and feel ashamed of his own inability right before they landed, but simply working her muscles through the sequences as quickly as she could. She might need to draw on the cold-blooded fire on short notice after all.

It was while she was winding her way through the sequences that she noticed an older man in uniform walking briskly up behind her and eyed him in mild irritation. The ship’s captain was a singularly colorless individual if she had ever seen one, so much so that she didn’t even remember his name. And Azula never forgot anything.

“Princess,” the officer began with a quick bow, “I apologize, but there will be a delay. I’m afraid that the tides will not allow us to bring the ship into port before nightfall.”

Typical. Entrust your inferiors with anything of too much importance and the results were inevitable. She didn’t turn to face the man, folding her arms behind her back instead as she continued to stare out over the water.

“Captain,” she said with just a calculated hint of a sigh, “Who are you carrying on this ship?”

“You and your brother, your highness.”

“And what is the purpose of our little outing?”

“To find and capture the Avatar, your highness.”

“Very good,” she told him. “So, how important would you rate your passengers to the Fire Nation? Our mission?”

“You’re both very important,” he replied immediately. “And your mission is vital to the future of the nation.”

“Again, you are correct,” she paused. “You surprise me, Captain.”

“I’m… afraid I don’t understand, Princess.”

“You seem to be aware of just who your passengers are and what is at stake here. And yet, when the time comes for you to play your part, you seem to be struggling. Have you considered that even a single day may be all the difference between our capturing the Avatar and having him slip away behind the walls of Ba Sing Se to learn earthbending? Every delay is more opportunity for him to open up ground, for trails to go cold.” Azula turned around to face him. “Have you properly considered all of that?”

“Well, I…” he looked nervous.

“Have you considered that you’re failing your prince, your princess, and your nation all at the same time when you impose unnecessary delays on us?” The tone of her voice grew harsher. “Is _that_ what you’re looking to do, Captain?”

“No, Princess,” he bowed hastily.

“No indeed? Then what _is_ your intention?”

“To… prevent us from getting beached, your highness”

Azula turned back around to face the bay. “I can see the waters as well as you can,” better, truthfully. “And I can see that the tides have not gone completely out. It would be a poor helmsman that couldn’t navigate the ship through this.” She glanced behind her. “ _Are_ you a poor helmsman, Captain?”

“…No, Princess.”

“Are you a loyal son of the Fire Nation?”

“Yes, Princess.”

“Do you intend to fail the heirs to the Dragon Throne?”

“No, Princess.”

“Good. Then you know what must be done.”

“I…” his expression hardened. “Yes, Princess.”

“Go on then,” she nodded, and favored him with a small, albeit frosty, smile. “I have faith in you.”

“Yes, your highness,” he slammed his fist over his heart and bowed one more time, “I’ll pull us in.” He hurried off towards the sloop’s superstructure to do as bidden.

Azula rolled her eyes as he went.

_Underlings._

* * *

The royal sloop pulled slowly into port less than an hour later, taking pride of place amidst the half-dozen anchored Fire Navy ships. Zuko and Azula, formally dressed in their fine black and gold armor that would have to be discarded while on the road (she had insisted), stood not far from the deck’s edge, honor guard at their backs, looking down on the crowd assembled to greet their arrival on the mainland.

There were a variety of naval officers present, local captains and petty officers mostly, with one prominent exception. Firebenders stood at attention on either side of the ramp’s projected trajectory. Notably, there were two men and a woman that stood out amongst the sea of crimson and black by being dressed in drab browns, looking stoically up at the ship. Their high topknots and signature facial tattoos gave them away immediately to anyone who knew anything about the Fire Nation’s many specialist units.

“You sent for Yuyan Archers?” Azula looked at her brother and raised an eyebrow.

“The area around Pohuai Stronghold is pretty secure,” he explained, “so I thought Colonel Shinu could spare a few.”

“Expert marksmen, specialists in missions requiring stealth and precision, well-versed in tracking and wilderness survival,” she nodded approvingly.

“The Royal Procession is too bulky to keep up with a flying bison overland. We’d never catch up to the Avatar if we had to haul all of it around.” Zuko’s voice was firmer. “We need a small, elite team.”

“You actually _did_ put some thought into this.” She smiled, a mixture of playfulness and menace. “Consider me impressed.”

“I learned from the best,” he returned just a hint of her smile.

“And here I thought you weren’t paying attention,” Azula chuckled softly. “Remind me to talk to you about it once the formalities are done with. I have a few suggestions for some additions when we set out. They won’t take us far out of our way.”

Zuko nodded, just as the prow ramp started to descend in a hiss of steam and gears.

In spite of her superior status as the Crown Princess, Zuzu’s position as the designated expedition leader meant that he was the first off of the sloop. Azula watched her brother descend with arms behind his back, doing his best perfect prince pose that she had taught him, and then promptly start waving to the peons with an awkward half-smile on his face. He even shook a few hands. She resisted the urge to facepalm, but only just. Uncle’s habits had rubbed off on him too much.

For her own part, the princess was the very picture of royal dignity when she made her own way down the boarding ramp. Composed, expressionless, poised, and calculated, her every step was perfection incarnate. Her eyes commanded the world to bow down before her. The crowd parted around her like the sea around an immovable rock. No one dared try to shake _her_ hand.

Their honor guard from the Royal Procession came next, at least able to pull off synchronized marches impressively if their firebending was somewhat lacking. The duo would be spending the remainder of the afternoon being shown around and staying the night at the base. To honor the navy’s hospitality, Zuko had said. Azula didn’t feel it needed honoring, being simply what was expected and due to royalty, but she also wanted her brother to genuinely feel like this was his excursion. If that meant humoring his breaches of protocol along the way, so be it. She would just have to whip his presentation into shape when they got back to the capital, just as she had his firebending. They would set off at sunrise the next morning in more utilitarian traveling clothes, bulky escort undoubtedly left behind.

The tour of the facilities was nothing special, more suitable for midline officers than proper royalty. Nor did the strategic briefing she and her brother were given tell Azula anything she didn’t already know. The Fire Nation was securely in control of this section of coastline and had been for decades. The Earth Kingdom’s navy, what was left of it, with its obsolete wooden ships and overreliance on purely bending forms of artillery, was no serious threat. The only interesting part was the confirmed sighting by a number of distant patrols of the Avatar’s pet some seventy miles to the north, traveling in vaguely southeastern direction. Azula suspected that she knew right where he was heading.

It was getting later in the afternoon when the tour finally concluded with a formal reception, which was a dull enough affair of officers congratulating the Royal Family, the Fire Nation, and themselves, in that order, with various brews in hand and a wide spread of seafood hors d'oeuvres spread on platters. Dozens of men several times her age swapping stories and telling bad jokes didn’t especially interest the princess, associating with soldiers who hadn’t even made flag officer was beneath her, and she didn’t especially want to detract from Zuzu’s fumbling attempts to both fit in and seem royal with her presence. She didn’t make any excuses when she slipped out, though. Those were for ordinary people. A princess went where she pleased.

Azula hadn’t gotten very far down the nearest hallway before she heard the rustle of curtains behind her. She didn’t need to glance over her shoulder to know who it was.

“What do you want, Commander? My brother already denied your request for an audience.”

“Princess Azula,” she could hear Zhao bowing low. “It’s an honor to make your acquaintance.”

_Don’t flatter yourself._

“I’ll repeat myself only once: what do you want?”

“I… very well,” he straightened up. “It’s regarding the Northern Water Tribe. I have a plan that could see-”

“I’m not interested in playing patron to a man that spent months _failing_ to capture a twelve-year-old boy,” she cut him off. “Don’t waste my time.”

“But Princess, I… we…” she could hear the desperation in his voice. This was his last chance to get anywhere before the comet came and dashed any hopes of glory in battle, and he knew it. “We can eliminate waterbending by slaying the moon spirit!”

Azula froze in her tracks.

“Please, I know how to locate and eliminate it! We can destroy the source of waterbending and take a tool out of the Avatar’s arsenal while you hunt-”

“And what,” she interrupted a second time in a soft, silky voice, “do you suppose would happen to our _archipelago_ nation if you _kill the moon_ , Commander?”

There was a brief spell of silence. She wondered if he’d thought about it at all.

“I knew you were incompetent and glory-seeking, Zhao,” The princess continued in a calm tone. “But I didn’t realize that you were insane. Be assured, my uncle _will_ be hearing about this.” Azula turned and gave Zhao the same smirk he’d been wearing three years before. “I suggest that you begin looking for a new occupation. The colonies can always use more coal miners.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters take quite a bit of effort to write, and I'd like to hear your thoughts. Please consider leaving some feedback.


	4. Chapter 4

Just as planned, the siblings set out the following morning at first light. It had taken Azula a few months to get Zuko used to rising with Agni like a proper firebender, but now at least that was second nature to both of them. The duo rode a pair of nimble black mongoose dragons, as did the three Yuyan Archers that her brother had summoned for their quest. The drably dressed pair of men and woman didn’t talk much and obeyed orders swiftly and without question. Azula found that she liked them already. If they lived up to their reputation on this trip, then she might have to see about acquiring some for her personal guard.

“So,” Zuko said as the naval base slowly shrunk behind them, “Mai and Ty Lee, huh?”

“Like I told you last night, they’re both skilled warriors, faithful subjects, and loyal friends,” Azula explained. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to come along.”

“You think so?”

“I _know_ so.”

“You think you know everything,” he gave her wry smile.

“Only because it’s true,” she returned it.

Zuko shook his head.

“They won’t take us far out of our way,” the princess said. “Mai is with her family in Be Haian, Ty Lee’s circus is only a few hours ride north. It won’t take us more than a day if we split up, two if we go together.”

“Every day is a day that the Avatar can use to put distance between us.”

“We can already be almost certain of his destination from our scouts’ reports,” she pointed out. “And, frankly, it’s almost guaranteed he’d reached it by the time our ship pulled into port with the speeds his creature can reach. I doubt he’ll be going anywhere anytime soon. One day’s detour won’t hurt us badly.”

“Hmmm…” Zuzu looked thoughtful.

The small group rode on in silence for a short while.

“It’s funny, don’t you think?” her brother said eventually. “That both of them would be so close to where we were going.”

“Maybe it’s destiny’s way of hinting that you should accept your sister’s wise council.”

The letter she’d dispatched before they’d even left the capital to her old friend’s circus master hinting at a royal visit if he double timed his troupe south and obliquely mentioning royal disappointment if he didn’t probably hadn’t hurt either.

“You wouldn’t have been giving destiny a helping hand, would you?”

“Who, me?” Azula gave her best innocent look. “Don’t you know me better by now?”

“I ask _because_ I know you,” Zuko gave a faux sigh, then shook his head. “Alright, fine, you win. We’ll go see if they’re willing to come along.”

“I’m glad you’ve learned to see things my way,” she smiled at him.

“But only if they’re willing,” he told her. “I’m not going to drag them into this. It’s too dangerous for that. They’re not soldiers, and the army isn’t conscripting teenaged girls.”

_That can be changed easily enough._

“Of course, of course,” she held up one hand in a gesture of appeasement, keeping the other on the mongoose dragon’s reins. “It’s your decision, after all.”

“I’m glad you’re on board.”

“I’m a woman of my word,” Azula lied. “That does leave us with one more question, though. We can go to get them both together if you want, but it’s more efficient to split up and meet back a day later, around halfway between them.”

“We shouldn’t waste any more time than we have to, and this is still friendly territory,” he replied. “We split up.”

“A wise choice,” she leaned forward in the saddle. “So, which one do you prefer to collect?”

She already knew her brother’s answer, of course, but it was important that he felt like he wasn’t just being led by the hand through this whole quest if it was to have its intended effect.

“…Mai,” he said after a moment’s thought, looking over at her. “I’ll take Mai.”

“Then Ty Lee and I will be honored to join the two of you shortly,” Azula smiled at him one more time.

* * *

While her brother veered off to the northwest, Azula continued her journey due north, with only a single Yuyan Archer for company. The woman, Aunwei, didn’t speak much save when spoken to, was always duly respectful, and simply did as she was told without question. Ideal qualities for any servant, really. While the princess didn’t see a chance on their way to test the legend about pinning a fly to a tree at a hundred yards, a passing blue jay found out to its profound misfortune that their reputation was no idle boast. Leaving the frantically tweeting creature to its fate, pinned to a pine through both wings with a single arrow, Azula made good time along the dirt road until, at last, her destination came into view.

The princess really didn’t know _what_ Ty Lee saw in this place. It was disgusting and crude, lacking all the refinements that should characterize the entertainment of any self-respecting noble girl. Theatre back in the capital was one thing, sophisticated, well-rehearsed, dramatic, and clean, but this place? There were animals and peasants everywhere, the smell of hay and cheap carnival fare was omnipresent, and the gaudy tent and costume colors not only clashed with each other but didn’t even look good on their own merits. What precisely was the appeal supposed to be here?

Azula made her careful way through the revolting mess with lips pursed, golden eyes constantly sweeping back and forth. It took even her a few minutes of wandering through the rows of tents and cages, but inevitably the princess found her prey.

“Ty Lee,” she began, “could that possibly be you?”

“Azula!” her old schoolmate’s smile hadn’t changed in the years since she’d run off. She gave a brief but deep bow, then rushed over to hug her princess. “It’s so good to see you!”

“Please,” Azula said once they’d disentangled themselves, “don’t let me interrupt your… whatever it is you were doing.”

The brightly dressed acrobat promptly resumed doing what she did best, contorting herself in ways even the princess couldn’t hope to replicate. And not for a lack of trying. Sometimes Azula had wondered if Ty Lee had any bones at all.

“Tell me, what is the daughter of a nobleman doing here?” she couldn’t quite keep an edge of distaste from her voice as she looked around. “Certainly, our parents didn’t send us to the Royal Fire Academy for Girls to end up in… places like this.”

The princess cringed visibly as a nearby platypus bear promptly laid an egg. Right there on the ground, wet and stinking and covered in thick semitransparent goop. Her old friend only smiled again at the sight.

 _What has this place_ done _to you?_ Azula wondered.

“…I have a proposition for you,” she managed to continue after a few seconds, suppressing the urge to pinch her nose. “I’m on a hunting trip. You’ve heard of the Avatar?”

“Isn’t he supposed to be just some kid?” she looked curious.

“A more dangerous child you’ll rarely find, I’m afraid,” not counting herself, naturally. “I would be honored if you would join me in my mission.”

“Oh, I…” Ty Lee looked more than a little hesitant, “would love to. Really,” she flipped back into an upright stance. “But the truth is: I’m really happy here. I mean,” her bright smile returned, “my aura has never been pinker!”

“I’ll… take your word for it.”

As anyone who had known her for any length of time could have explained, Azula was and always had been a great lover of order. _Her_ order, to be exact. The things that she wanted to happen happened precisely when and where the princess wished. For her highness to be outright refused like this could have been considered a deeply personal affront far beyond mere incompetence. A lesser princess might have allowed herself to show her irritation at this little hiccup. Azula was no lesser princess. She knew that there were many strings to pull, and a time and place for all of them.

Zuzu would be upset with her if Ty Lee didn’t think she’d come willingly, after all.

“Ty Lee,” she sighed. “May I tell you a truth in return?”

“A truth?” the acrobat looked puzzled. “Um sure, I guess.”

“Why do you think I’m on this little quest?”

Her friend thought a moment. “…To protect the Fire Nation from the Avatar?”

“True, but only partially so. Ty Lee,” here Azula’s expression became more serious. “Do you remember what happened to my brother after you ran off to join the circus?”

“Well…” the chipper girl looked a little downcast for the first time, “I’d heard a few things. They said your dad got really mad at him for something and sent him away for a while and made you the Crown Princess, right?”

“You don’t know the half of it,” the princess shook her head. “You know that Zuko was always a headstrong boy. Never knew when to keep quiet. In his very first war meeting, my brother heard of a plan to coldly sacrifice thousands of our own innocent, loyal soldiers for questionable prospects of gain. He alone, of all the proud generals and admirals and nobility that were present, spoke up to defend them. For that, and nothing else, the father he had worked so hard to please his whole life burned his face off in an Agni Kai while he begged for mercy.”

Ty Lee put a hand over her mouth.

“Can you even imagine it?” Azula put a hand on the performer’s shoulder, staring deep into her eyes. “The stench of searing flesh. The pleas for clemency turning to screams of white-hot agony. The hundreds of jeering faces, laughing cruelly as a mere boy of thirteen was tortured by his own father for no more crime than having a heart.”

A bit of an exaggeration. There had been, to her knowledge, no one even smirking that day save for Zhao and herself. Even by Father’s standards an Agni Kai with his own son had been exceptionally brutal, such that even his coterie of sycophants wasn’t especially comfortable with it. No one had complained in the aftermath, of course, but no one really wanted to discuss it either.

Azula took a deliberate pause, allowing her old friend time to really picture the scene. Judging from the way Ty Lee’s wide grey eyes were starting to water, she was.

“In the aftermath, he lost everything. His home, his family, his place, his honor, absolutely everything. He was sent away on an impossible quest to recover the Avatar. But he was so determined, so devoted, so earnest that he threw everything he had into succeeding in that last, horrible joke at his expense even before the burn had scarred. He was at the Western Air Temple searching for him within a week.”

“Why?!” the acrobat suddenly burst out. “Why would he do that?”

“That’s just the way he is,” the princess sighed. “He would have spent the rest of his life searching the earth from end to end if Father hadn’t suddenly died.”

 _In such a humiliating, agonizing way, too,_ she mentally added with no small amount of satisfaction.

“Fire Lord Ozai’s orders might have died with him, but I don’t need to tell you that one doesn’t simply get over things like that in a day. I’ve tried for years to help him recover, but some scars just seem to run too deep for even me.”

“Even you? But…” the acrobat looked confused again. “You’re the smartest girl in the whole world!”

“True, but even I can’t work miracles,” she put a hand on her hip. “Zuko’s always wanted to play his role. Then his father took his role alongside the left half of his face. He’s been plagued with doubts for years now, I can see it. What he really needs is closure.”

“The Avatar…” Ty Lee breathed.

“Right,” Azula nodded, rewarding her friend with a faint smile. “If Zuko can capture the Avatar, can finally complete the last quest his father gave him, not only will he protect our country and prove to the Fire Nation that he _is_ a worthy prince, he’ll prove it to himself. Then he can finally be whole again.”

“And…” she looked up, “that’s where I come in?”

“You’re catching on. The Avatar is the world’s most powerful bender, or at least has the potential to be. Subduing him will be exceptionally difficult even for a master firebender. Your chi blocking art is a unique counter to bending, one I’m sure even he won’t see coming. And you’re the most capable practitioner of it that I know.”

“I am? Really?”

“Really,” Azula said in a reassuring voice. “That’s why I was hoping you’d agree to join us. The mission deep into enemy territory will be dangerous enough for Zuko and I even with your skills, without you even I don’t know if we’ll make it back at all,” she lied.

Ty Lee’s eyes widened, but she said nothing.

“I trust you completely, Ty Lee,” the princess told her, putting two hands on her shoulders and wearing a gentle smile. “That’s why I came looking for you. If you truly think that the good that you’re doing here is more important than what you could do on our hunt for the Fire Nation, for Zuko and myself, then I’ll accept your judgement. Come with us or stay here at your own discretion,” she half turned away, briefly waving one hand to the circus performer. “You are free to choose.”

With that, Azula turned her back completely on her childhood friend and started walking slowly away, hands clasped behind her back. She didn’t need to look behind her to know the expression on Ty Lee’s face as she skirted the disgusting and smelly platypus bear that had just laid the egg. Wretched creatures, and they didn’t even taste good.

_Three… two… one…_

“Azula,” a voice called out from behind her, “wait!”

Azula couldn’t resist a small smirk.

* * *

While his sister had a relatively straight shot to the north, Zuko’s path saw him veering away from the mountains, back through the forest towards the coasts. Two Yuyan Archers accompanied him for protection, though in these parts he didn’t feel much like he needed it. They weren’t very talkative people, but the prince had never been a great conversationalist anyway. It seemed to fit. After a few hours’ ride through the trees and along the seashore, the trio reached the edge of a natural harbor and spotted their destination.

Mai’s father Ukano had recently been appointed governor of the Fire Nation colony of Be Haian, a quaint and relatively dated addition to the empire. Nestled along a white stone cliffside towards the back of the harbor and seized near the beginning of the war, it had begun life decades earlier as little more than a simple naval dockyard used to service and repair the Fire Nation’s cruisers as they sailed back from the nearby inlet to Full Moon Bay. But as the Earth Kingdom’s navy was worn down and serious battles at sea became rarer and rarer, the colony’s successive leaders had branched out in an attempt to prove their continued usefulness. Now it was a small but strategically important port city in its own right, serving as a waystation for troops destined for the southwestern Earth Kingdom as well as facilitating the shipment of goods to the homeland from mainland colonies less fortuitously placed. Zuko could see more than thirty ships bobbing up and down in the harbor, only two of them the metal titans of the navy. Gulls cawed and wheeled overhead, waves crashed endlessly on the rocky shore, the smells of brine and freshly caught fish were omnipresent even from the clifftop.

Mai probably hated it. Then again, she hated almost everything.

As he spurred his mongoose dragon down the wide, paved road running down to the port, Zuko passed by a flattened quarry near the edge of town. A trio of men in red armor and white skull masks could be seen in the midst of the field of rubble, alongside a fourth in an officer’s uniform. At a barked command from their superior, the three faceless soldiers took a simultaneous step forward and thrust out both fists, sending a veritable flechette storm of small white pebbles crashing into the cliffside. These were earthbenders. Earthbenders in Fire Nation uniforms.

It was one of Uncle’s ideas. Many Fire Nation colonies had existed for generations at this point, frequently built in and around preexisting Earth Kingdom settlements. Intermarriages were an inevitability in such close proximity, however looked down upon they were by some. That in turn meant that there were a number of born earthbenders that were Fire Nation citizens by birthright. Traditionally held to have suspect loyalties simply for their element, these colonials had long chaffed under a variety of harsh restrictions that barred all but the most rudimentary education in bending and effectively banned them from military service.

When Uncle came to power, that had changed. Regulations had been loosened over the objections of some of the old guard. Basic education in earthbending was less tightly controlled for Fire Nation citizens, and the longstanding ban on them serving in the army had been eased back considerably. The sheer number of volunteers in those first few months had come as a bit of a shock to the upper echelons, including the prince. Whether the new recruits genuinely sought to prove their loyalty to their ancestors’ homeland, wanted an escape from a life of constant suspicion, desired to learn more about their element, or simply saw a career in the military as the most viable option for personal advancement was immaterial. Within a year the Fire Nation had enough colonial earthbenders in the military to form an entire auxiliary corps of almost a thousand men. These new soldiers wore uniforms highly similar to those of the army’s firebenders, save only for the shape of the decorative spikes adorning their helmets. A deliberate choice, to help them fit in visually as much as possible.

It made sense to Zuko. Earth might be an inferior element, but the Fire Nation had long had a place for nonbenders in even its highest ranks. Once they had accomplished Sozin’s dream and extended their prosperity across the whole of the globe, there would be multitudes of earthbenders under the Dragon Throne’s jurisdiction. They would have to do _something_ to integrate them into the new world order, it was better to start now and let them prove their value and loyalty during the final months of the war. That would make the transition to a postwar world that much easier once victory was achieved.

One of the soldiers in training noticed the royalty passing by and the men offered hasty salutes and bows, which Zuko acknowledged as gracefully as he could before riding onwards into the town proper. The buildings of Be Haian were white as the face of its cliffs, their roofs the familiar graceful curving structures of red and gold. Not wanting to cause a scene or waste too much time, the prince pushed his mount quickly through the tiered streets, doing his best to ignore the curious onlookers that seem to be growing more numerous with every passing minute.

The governor’s palace was another white stone structure near the top of one of the cliffs, three-tiered and lavishly decorated with crimson and gold trim resembling stylized flames. The whole structure looked a bit like one of the Fire Sages’ temples, if you asked him. A truly superfluous number of steps formed a broad stairway leading up to the double onyx-colored doors elaborately embellished with a golden mural depicting sun and sea and sky. The spear-wielding guards were a little puzzled to see the young man in red riding up with two tattooed companions in dull brown, right up until they’d recognized the headpiece he was wearing.

Governor Ukano was beside himself, of course. They hadn’t been ready for such an important guest, he said, and would Zuko like any refreshments while they prepared their best accommodations? It took the young prince a few minutes to make it clear that no, he wasn’t here on a state visit and no, he didn’t need anything, thank you. He was just here to pay a quick visit to an old friend. No, he wouldn’t be staying the night. Yes, he was sure.

It still took a few more minutes after that and a brief run-in with the family’s baby boy, but eventually a servant did lead the prince to a wooden door on one end of the palace, before gracefully bowing out. Zuko straightened up, took a deep breath, and knocked several times.

“…I told you I’m not hungry,” came a muffled voice from the other side.

“Then it’s a good thing I didn’t come with snacks,” he said the first thing that popped into his mind.

There came a sudden rustle of sheets, the sound of light footsteps, and then the door in front of him creaked open just enough for a familiar face to peer outside.

“Zuko?” the darkly dressed girl blinked, and for a moment the prince swore he could make out a faint smile on her face. The next moment it was gone, and she opened the door fully. Mai bowed at the waist just low enough to be proper.

“Hey Mai,” Zuko waved briefly. “How’ve you been?”

“Terrible,” Mai sighed. “And bored. As always,” she straightened back up again. “How about you?”

“Oh, you know. Life’s been pretty much the same. Firebending, swordsmanship, statecraft, history, philosophy, etiquette,” he snorted a bit, “Uncle keeps trying to teach me how to brew tea. Says I’ll get it right one of these days.”

“Mhm,” she eyed him. “It’s been a while. What brought a prince a few hundred miles across the ocean to this reeking, waterlogged backwater? I heard that they were keeping you pretty busy back in the capital.”

“They were,” he nodded. “But I decided to take a pleasure cruise, and I thought I’d stop by to see the sights,” Zuko offered her a feeble smile.

Mai looked unmoved. “…You never were that good at being funny.”

“I know,” he sighed.

“Well,” she beckoned, “you’re here, so you may as well come in.”

The prince followed the noble girl inside, taking a seat on a cushion by the room’s balcony. The ocean view was excellent from that vantage, and warm afternoon sun seeming to fill the bright blue water with sparkling gemstones.

“So,” she sat down opposite him, across a table laden with several untouched bowls of fruit. “Why are you really here?”

“Well,” he began, feeling a little forward to just ask up front but not seeing a better path, “I’m on a mission… and Azula thought you might-”

“I’m in,” Mai said immediately.

Zuko blinked. “But you don’t even know what it is yet.”

“Does it get me out of here?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“Then I’m in.”

“It’ll be very dangerous,” he warned.

“So am I. And so what?” the pale girl shrugged. “If I stay here, I’ll die of boredom or salt overdose soon anyway. Whatever it is can’t be worse than that.”

“My sister and I are following the Avatar into the Earth Kingdom,” the prince told her. “You know, he’s potentially the world’s strongest bender. We’ll be crossing hostile territory crawling with Agni knows how many enemy soldiers. You may not be able to come home for months.”

“Sounds good to me,” Mai stuck a grape with the point of a thin knife, then popped it into her mouth. She leaned forward over the table. “How soon can we get out of here? I can be packed in a few minutes.”

 _Well,_ thought Zuko, _that was easier than I thought._

* * *

The newly enlarged group reconvened on the road the next morning, resulting in both Mai and Zuko getting hugs (Zuko’s was extra-long, to his confusion and Mai’s slightly visible irritation). They set out promptly to the northeast, two of the archers now sharing mounts with the latest additions, and soon rendezvoused with an outpost of soldiers under General Yuu’s command. There, they confirmed that the scouts’ latest sightings of the Avatar had put him travelling in the direction of Omashu, and there also they reached the edge of friendly territory. When the group continued on from there, they did so in varying shades of Earth Kingdom green and brown. Zuko commented that the bright green ribbon that Azula had been forced to trade her golden flame headpiece for made her look oddly adorable, and she’d just managed to resist throwing a fireball at his head.

From that last Fire Nation outpost, the hunters continued north into the foothills of the Kolau Mountain Range, passing through several disgustingly unconquered farming villages as they went. Each time they would send two people in to ask around for news of their quarry, leaving the mongoose dragons native to their archipelago well out of sight. The answers they got invariably fell into two categories: either the peasants knew nothing, or they had heard from somewhere that the Avatar was heading north, probably to study with the so-called “mad genius” that ruled this corner of the Earth Kingdom. Actual sightings of the boy or his pet were rare but weren’t necessary either. It really was more a matter of eliminating improbabilities than confirming what, deep down, they already all knew.

Three days into their travels through the mountains and one brief but irritating encounter with a group of singing nomads later, and the septet crested a peak within sight of their destination, a rising sun gleaming ahead of them. The mountain fortress-city of Omashu was impressive even at a distance, a massive, multi-peaked citadel surrounded on every side by a great gorge. From on high, a long dirt road could be seen winding its way through the surrounding mountain range, eventually becoming a lone stone bridge that led right up to the city’s wall. The Avatar’s trail, such as it was, led here. The boy that held the potential to be the Fire Nation’s greatest foe and her brother’s final restoration was somewhere amidst that mass of stone. All they had to do was infiltrate one of the most heavily defended cities remaining in the Earth Kingdom, defeat what could be the most powerful bender in the world, escape from hostile territory with their lives, and drag him a few hundred miles across the ocean back to Caldera City.

Nothing to it.

“So,” Azula said, looking to Zuko. “How do you want to handle it?”

“There’s no way we’re crossing that gorge except on that bridge,” her brother muttered, then frowned. “Climbing up that sheer cliff would take too long even if we didn’t fall – we’d be spotted by someone on the wall sooner or later during the day. Trying it at night is just suicide.” He shook his head. “We have to go in through the front gate.”

“And how do we do that?” Mai asked.

“…There are merchants and traders going up and down the main road,” the prince pointed to a distant speck, only just visible from their vantage point. “Those villages we passed by have to sell their crops somewhere. A city this size has needs. That’s our way inside.”

“You want us to stow away on one of those peasant carts?” the princess asked. “Or just take one for ourselves?”

“I want us to send someone down to _buy_ one,” he replied. “They’re just regular people trying to survive. We have plenty of money.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Azula had supposed that it would be too much to ask of her brother to just have his archers eliminate random passersby so as to acquire transport and leave no witnesses to anything unusual. She looked behind her. “Ty Lee?”

“Yes?”

“You’re the most… personable of all of us. You take the money and find us some peasant traders along the road willing to part with their transport and all of their goods. Be quick about it.”

“Yes ma’am,” the acrobat gave a sort of half-salute as Zuko tossed her one of their numerous bags of Earth Kingdom currency, nudging her mongoose dragon into motion with a quick click of her heels.

Ty Lee _was_ the best choice. She was genuinely friendly, likeable, and more than a little attractive. Of all of them, she had the most experience of slumming it with the peasants, and the best idea of how much things were supposed to cost in this part of the world. She was likely the only one of them who regularly had to buy things for herself, after all. And she was more than capable of defending herself if anything went amiss.

And besides, there was _no_ way that the Crown Princess of the Fire Nation was going to reduce herself to haggling with Earth Kingdom peasantry.

* * *

Around half a day later, the royal siblings were riding along in a covered cart, pulled by a pair of ostrich horses whose odor offended the princess’ nose, but who seemed good-tempered enough. After leaving their superior but revealing mounts in the care of Aunwei, the remainder of the Fire Nation warriors had set off for the enemy city. Their new animals showed no particular distress at the sudden change in drivers. Behind the royals’ seat were a number of neatly packed wooden boxes, bearing agricultural products from more fertile lands further south, nearer the coast, plus a little something extra carefully concealed underneath. Such things were a common sight around here, and if Uncle hadn’t been such a squeamish coward, he could have focused the army’s efforts on choking them off. Omashu might have underground springs enough to quench its thirst, but the mountain fortress city simply lacked enough arable land within its walls to keep all its inhabitants fed.

Speaking of the Earth Kingdom stronghold, it was presently looming ever larger on the horizon. Azula had to admit, the sheer size of it was impressive. Much as the Fire Nation had transformed the caldera of a dormant volcano into its capital, these mud savages had shaped what looked to be the upper third of a mountain into a titanic stone city. A multitude of artificial peaks and towering spires held a population tens of thousands strong, nothing next to the grandeur of Ba Sing Se but enough to stoically endure the ravages of war for decades, even as city after city throughout the continent fell to the might of the Fire Nation. This was the last great stronghold the dirt people had south of Full Moon Bay, and as their cart left the dirt path for the proper stone leading to the city gates, it was easy to see exactly why.

“When we reach the gate,” Azula muttered softly. “Let me do the talking.”

“Why?”

“I’m a better liar, of course.”

“…Point,” Zuko nodded.

“Just play your part, and we’ll be inside in no time.”

“You can count on it.”

The winding road up to Omashu was nothing more than a narrow strip of rock bridging a truly titanic gorge. Making their way slowly up the switchbacks, never more than a few feet from a plunge of hundreds of feet to sharp rocks below, always within clear sight and easy shot of earthbenders flinging boulders from atop the wall, Azula felt absurdly vulnerable, which she supposed was the whole point. The city had endured a hundred years of war for a reason, after all. Over the decades, assault after assault from the Fire Nation had floundered on this narrow pass with hundreds dead, and even when their troops had neared the wall the enemy had just collapsed the entire narrow strip beneath their feet anyway. Their earthbenders could reconstruct it easily enough.

Crossing the gorge took a few minutes of traveling, silent but for the rumble of the cart’s wheels, the occasional gobble from the ostrich horses, and the mild breeze whipping Azula’s bangs around. The mountain fortress city grew larger and larger, towering over them until the princess could make out the distant, tiny figures of individual soldiers on the walls. Three such men stood outside of the section of impermeable stone that passed for a gate around here, though typical for Earth Kingdom savages there was no mechanism to open it save for earthbending. Honestly, did they think nonbending soldiers didn’t exist?

“Halt,” one of the green-clothed soldiers with a broad helmet raised a gloved hand, “identify yourselves and state your business in Omashu.”

“I’m Ming,” the princess put a hand on Zuko’s shoulder, “and this is my brother, Lee. We’re just traders, looking to sell fresh fruits and vegetables in your fine city. We heard that prices were better here than down south, so we came a little out of our usual way.”

“Aren’t you a little young to be traders, though?” the bearded man raised an eyebrow.

“My brother and I… are war orphans,” Azula put just the right tinge of sadness and hesitation into her tone. “We… lost Mom and Dad to the Fire Nation in the same attack where… the same attack where…” her voice wavered; her eyes visibly moistened as she glanced over at Zuko’s face.

Her brother dutifully sighed mournfully, then looked down and away. The prince turned his eyes to avoid contact with the guards, sporting a slightly nervous and downcast expression. And, conveniently, fully displayed the left side of his face to them, with its huge and hideous scar so obviously inflicted by a firebender, in the process.

“Those savages…” the guard muttered, expression softening.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…” the princess said after a few seconds of silence, drying several of her highly conspicuous tears on her bright green sleeve. “We take care of each other now.” She slowly patted the cart. “This is… all that we have left. We do what we can to get by, sir.”

“I’m sorry to hear about what happened to your family,” the soldier offered, wiping one tear off his own cheek. “You’re welcome in Omashu, of course…” he nodded to someone on the wall behind him, and the threefold earthbending gates began to grind open. “And, before you go in…” he sniffed once. “I’d like to buy something.”

“Thank you very much, sir,” Azula smiled gently, one more tear trickling down her cheek, the very picture of innocent gratitude.

There was a short exchange of merchandise, where the princess was reasonably sure that they received more copper coins for the handful of green apples they supplied each guard with than the fruit was strictly worth. Normally, charity would irritate her, but right at that moment it just made her laugh inside. The cart proceeded through the gate at a moderate pace, ostrich horses evidently unbothered by the heavy grind of stone upon stone. Mere moments later Omashu, the second greatest stronghold remaining in the Earth Kingdom, lay open before them. The towering mountain city was even more impressive up close, rank after rank of fine green and yellow-roofed buildings winding their way up to the royal palace on the very highest peak.

“You’re scary good at that sometimes,” Zuko muttered, as the gates rumbled shut again behind them.

She smiled sweetly at him. “I try.”

* * *

The covered cart made its way a considerable distance through the streets of Omashu, its drivers keeping a wary eye out for passing guard patrols as it rumbled over the stone roads. After several minutes had passed and they had made their way to a less busy part of town further from the gates and reached a quiet back street, Azula took one last careful look around and glanced at her brother, who nodded. The princess reached back and gave four careful raps on the wood – the prearranged signal. Immediately, four of the numerous wooden boxes of fruit and vegetables began to shake, food spilling over and into the cart as their carefully packed occupants pulled their way free.

“Why did I have to hide underneath the apples again?” Mai grumbled, brushing bits of stem from her white and green robes as she clambered out of the crate, scattering green fruit across the cart’s bottom.

“At least you didn’t get the dragonfruit,” Ty Lee murmured, “that stuff’s covered in spikes.”

“Quiet,” one of Zuzu’s archers, a man called Youta, said in a low voice as he emerged from the cucumbers. “Their highnesses have their reasons.”

Azula decided on the spot that she liked that man.

“Because two people arriving in a cart this size is a lot less out of the ordinary than six,” Zuko told them what they already knew perfectly well, “and keeping you hidden from the gate guards means they won’t know to connect you to us.”

 _And because royalty does not suffer such indignity when others may do so in our stead,_ his sister mentally finished for him.

“We’ll need to find some shelter before nightfall,” the prince declared while their companions finished cleaning themselves off, hopping down onto the deserted street. “Some place quiet and private, away from the main areas. Near the outer wall, if we can manage it.”

Ty Lee looked around. “I’m sure there’s some place for rent around here somewhere.”

As it turned out, there were. Quite a few, in fact. Omashu’s population hadn’t endured decades of war entirely without sacrifices. The war dead had left enough empty homes for travelers to avail themselves of. An ample supply of money, a pretty face, and a sob story meant that finding one appropriate to their needs took the small group only half an hour of searching. A few gold pieces down, and the six of them were soon setting down their meager traveling possessions in the common room of a modest green-roofed stone house near the lowest slopes of the mountain city. 

“Our first order of business now that we’ve secured a base of operations should be learning all that we can of the Avatar’s habits,” Azula looked upwards out a window at the highest peak with one hand on her hip. “He’s undoubtedly staying at the king’s palace, but where exactly in it may become relevant. The ruler here is reputed to be quite a powerful earthbender, though, so our wisest approach may be to try and tackle our quarry whenever he comes outside.”

“From what I’ve been reading about airbenders, they don’t take well to being cooped up inside for long,” Zuko said from where he sat crossed-legged before a low wooden table.

“Exactly,” the princess nodded approvingly, pleased that he actually had done some reading. “So, it’s a good bet he’ll show up somewhere around the city at some point. What we’ll need to establish is where and when, and if there is any sort of pattern to it that we can exploit. I propose that we begin by sending some members of our group to discretely scope out the perimeter defenses of the palace this afternoon. See if we can discover either where our quarry is likely to emerge from or possible vectors for infiltration.”

“Beats being buried in fruit another hour,” Mai shrugged.

“This won’t be an easy task,” Azula warned. “We’re on the inside of one of the most defensible cities on this side of the continent, our target is almost certain to be at its heart. It could take weeks of painstaking observation before a suitable opportunity becomes visible.” She frowned. “It’s entirely possible that none will arise while we’re here. We could wind up having to follow him to a less well-defended location.”

“WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

There came a sudden orange and yellow blur from above, shooting by on one of the city’s famous overhead mail delivery chutes. Several pairs of golden, grey, and brown eyes stared out through the open window, turning to track the fast-moving projectile as it whizzed by several stories above them, eventually disappearing behind one of the many other green-roofed buildings. Seconds later, there came the nearby sound of crashing stone, shattering wood, and a wet squishing mixed in.

“MY CABBAGES!”

“Or, that could happen,” Mai said in her usual flat tone.

“Was that… him?” Zuko stared, more than a little dumbstruck.

“It matched his description from what I could make out, sir,” Youta replied.

“You stay here,” the princess ordered the archers. “Mai, Ty Lee, you’re with us. We’ll go check it out.”

The four of them hurried through the quieter streets as best they could without looking like they were hurrying. They made good time crossing several city blocks, but arrived only in time to see a young boy taking off on his glider, soaring right overhead with a big grin on his face like he didn’t have a care in the world. An irate merchant in brown and green was shouting at a pair of spear-wielding guardsmen in the nearby square, but the fire nationals paid that no heed.

“That’s him alright…” Zuko muttered as he watched the boy go. “The Avatar.”

“He’s… fast,” Azula mused, hand on her chin as she watched the Avatar rise steadily upwards towards the highest peaks. “That glider…”

“We’ll never catch up to him on terrain like this,” her brother whispered and shook his head. “Not when he can fly up and down the mountain in a few seconds flat.”

 _We have to get it away from him somehow,_ the princess shook her own head.

Arriving on the scene too late meant an opportunity lost, and Azula _hated_ those. 

The quartet was making its way back to their leased residence when there came the sound of another high-pitched whoop from not very far away. They looked up again to see the same yellow-orange blur go whizzing down a nearby ramp at high speed. It was further away from them than the first one had been, so they didn’t bother trying to chase after him. Azula could only watch sourly as their target soared briefly overhead again, seeming to mock her with just how close he seemed while being completely out of reach. It happened a third time on their way back to where they had started. Just after they reached their produce-filled cart parked near their humble abode, Mai spotted him returning to the mountain’s peak from a fourth trip that they had been too far away to hear.

Unbelievable. The Avatar, the master of all four elements, the only one who could possibly stand in the way of the Fire Nation’s final triumph this coming summer, really was just spending the afternoon riding Omashu’s mail chutes like a carefree child. She didn’t know whether she ought to laugh at how ridiculous it was or just weep. She did know that she felt insulted all the same.

“He really is just a kid,” Zuko muttered from beside her. They could just barely make out the airbender shoot down another distant ramp, laughing wildly. “A kid with…” his eyes widened a fraction, “no reason to know any of our faces.”

The princess looked at her brother and raised an eyebrow. The prince leaned over and whispered softly into her ear.

“Zuzu,” Azula said a few moments later with a wicked gleam in her eyes, pleased he’d been taking her lessons to heart. “How devious. I like it.”

“I thought you would,” he swelled a little.

“Oh Ty Lee,” the princess beckoned the acrobat with one finger once the group had returned inside. “We have another task for you.”

* * *

Aang clung tightly to his glider, soaring back up to a spot near the summit of Omashu’s tallest peak for another go. He was supposed to be practicing his earthbending katas, but he’d already done that all morning and a lot of the afternoon too. Learning to use an element the polar opposite of his own was hard enough work on its own, even without having to do it in weeks instead of years. A kid needed a break every once in a while. He was glad Bumi was so understanding.

This time, though, when he came within sight of his destination the airbender noticed another figure on the raised platform. The newcomer was a teenaged girl in a green outfit that exposed her midriff, with light brown hair woven into a long braid. She was humming merrily to herself as she pushed an empty stone cart to the edge of the precipice, a prominent smile visible on her face. When the airbender set down she turned curiously to look at him, and he saw that her eyes were a shade of grey almost identical to his own.

“Oh, hello!” said the girl in a bright, cheerful tone, waving at him. “Do you like to ride the mail chutes too?”

* * *

“And _that’s_ the story of how I had to walk on my hands for a whole week with my feet painted purple,” Ty Lee finished, several hours later, as the sun was finishing its slow descent behind the westward mountain range.

“No way,” Aang scoffed, in between trying to stifle giggles. “You’re making that up!”

“Am not!” she huffed, then flipped over to begin keeping pace with him with just her hands. “See?”

“Doesn’t that hurt after a while?”

“I mean sure, your wrists get sore at first, but after a day or two you don’t even feel it anymore.” Ty Lee flipped nimbly back to walking upright. “Sometimes something may be a bit uncomfortable to start off, but if you keep going, you’ll get the hang of it for sure.”

“Not a bad way to think about it,” the Avatar nodded, one finger on his chin, before looking around at the lengthening shadows all around him, lights starting to appear from some distant houses. “So, these friends of yours, are they as much fun as you?”

“Oh yeah, they’re great!” Ty Lee gave him one of her signature grins. “Ming’s a bit bossy and Lee doesn’t talk as much, but once you get past that you’ll really like them, I promise!”

“I’m sure I will,” he smiled back confidently. “Are we almost to them?”

“I’m sure they’re around here somewhere,” she replied, knowing full well she’d have to keep him walking in circles a few more minutes to wait for things to be just dark enough for how they’d wanted. Luckily, in a city this big, that wasn’t hard. “You know how merchants like to move around.”

“Yeah.”

“They’ll be packing up for the night now, though. I’m sure we’ll find them soon.”

“Maybe they can come back to the palace for dinner? I’m sure Katara and Sokka would love to meet them. Bumi too, if they don’t mind a little craziness.”

“I’m sure they won’t,” Ty Lee smiled brightly at him.

In the end, the sun’s light was all but gone and the crescent moon was becoming increasingly visible overhead when Ty Lee led Aang to where the royal siblings were just finishing packing up their cart. It was nestled between the shadows of two unoccupied buildings the royals had paid a month’s rent for in advance, not far from the outer wall in one of the city’s poorer, rougher districts. It said a lot about Aang that he didn’t seem hesitant at all to walk into a darkened alleyway with a girl he’d only met a few hours before.

“Ming! Lee!” Ty Lee called out to them. The siblings dutifully paused their work and looked up and over at her. “You’ll never guess who I ran into on the chutes today!” She smiled cheerfully. “This is Aang! He’s the Avatar!”

“The Avatar?!” Azula put a hand over her mouth, while her brother gasped beside her.

“It’s an honor to meet you,” Zuko bowed politely, as did his sister.

“There’s no need to be formal or anything,” Aang scratched the back of his head and smiled nervously. “Sure, I’m the Avatar, but I’m also just Aang.”

“You’re the one who’s destined to save us all from the Fire Lord!” If Ty Lee hadn’t known the princess for years, even she would have taken the sparkle of enthusiasm in her eyes for the real thing. “You’re the one who’ll bring balance to the world!”

“Heh heh, well, you know-”

“You’re going to give peace back to us, we simply _have_ to give you something in return!” she turned around and began rummaging through her cart. “I’m sorry that we don’t have a lot, but I’m sure whatever my brother and I do have is yours!”

Said brother immediately nodded his assent.

“No, no!” Aang waved both of his hands out in front of him. “Really, it’s fine! There’s no need to-”

“But I insist,” Ty Lee watched her turn around, a brilliant pink, juicy-looking dragonfruit clutched in one manicured hand. “Here, Avatar, catch!”

She tossed the conspicuously bright fruit softly into the air. The last airbender’s eyes instinctively tracked it, hands reaching up to grab the tasty-looking fruit as it began its slow descent and so not attuned to anything else going on around him. There was no way he could have known that that was the signal.

A sudden hiss of razor-sharp projectiles sprung seemingly from nowhere, catching Aang from the side and completely unawares. A multitude of arrows, stilettos, and knives caught his sleeves, pant legs, and the fringes of his outfit, pinning him face-first to a nearby building wall before he had time to blink. How Mai and the Yuyan Archers could manage that without even breaking skin, Ty Lee would never know.

The dragonfruit splattered onto the street, spilling white flesh and black seeds across the fine stonework. The circus performer was already in motion. Before the Avatar had had more than a split second to process what was happening, she was on top of him. Ty Lee felt a little bit bad for him as her knuckles rapidly struck pressure points along his spine and neck, followed by his upper arms. She did his legs last, and while his body went listless, she gave him a firm tap on the head for good measure.

The Avatar’s whole body slumped over forwards, while the acrobat backed off a few steps, waiting to see if there were any surprises coming. When a few seconds passed and he was still hanging limply there, unconscious form held upright only by the projectiles still pinning his clothes to the wall, she slowly lowered her guard. So that was it? The most powerful bender in the world, defeated in a few seconds by four nonbenders? Looking at how easy it was, Ty Lee felt somewhat sorry for Aang, honestly. He’d seemed a nice enough kid, even if he was on the wrong side of the war.

“Well,” Zuko said, as he and Azula edged cautiously forward, still halfway in bending stances. “That went better than expected.”


End file.
